Lighting Candles
by Jennie
Summary: In the space of a moment, a child is taken. Greg and Sara are forced to reevaluate their relationship as the rest of the team works against the clock, trying to find the missing child of their friends.
1. Chapter 1: Missing Her

**Title: **Lighting Candles

**Author:** Jennie/Jen/Alethia

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** In the space of a moment, a child is taken and everything changes.

"_It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness."_- Eleanor Roosevelt

AN: While it may not seem like it at the moment, this story _will_ be Greg/Sara. They just have to work their way through some rather large obstacles first.

**Chapter 1: Missing Her.**

"_A wise man once said that tragedy is not what we suffer, but what we miss_."- Anonymous

"Look! It's a dead bird!"

The six year-old poked at the carcass with a stick, awing the children gathered around her. With dark curls and a slender figure, she was a pretty child. However, her looks belied her true nature- as her mother well knew, she could become quite the terror.

And her fixation with dead animals didn't help any.

Sighing, her mother got up from the blanket and shook her head in resigned amusement. "Lis, darling, leave the bird alone." Throwing a look down at the two year-old sitting on the blanket by her feet, currently involved in eating crackers, she deigned it safe to venture to her daughter. "Come here, honey."

"Mommy, look!" Lis, short for Rosalind Elisabeth, poked the bird one more time. "How did the bird die?"

Sighing, her mother sent a look towards her son, who was still munching away and faced her daughter. "I don't know. But why don't we leave the bird alone and go play on the swings?"

Lis screwed up her face in thought. She looked quite like her father when she did that, her mother mused. "First I want to know what happened to the bird."

"Rosalind…" Her mother drew out her first name. Lis very rarely went by her true given name and it was a signal that she was about to get in very big trouble if she didn't obey.

"Okay." Tossing the stick down angrily, the small girl stormed towards the swings. Sighing, her mother returned to the blanket, where Eirik, her son, had abandoned the crackers and was now pulling up grass. She'd have to clean up the blanket now…

"Flower?" Eirik held out a clover he had picked and she accepted it, putting it along with a lock of hair behind her ear. Settling down, she dipped into the basket and pulled out a cup of juice.

"Would you like some juice?" Eirik grabbed for it and she glanced at her watch. It was now noon and though she wasn't very hungry at the moment, she knew that her daughter would be getting hungry. Just like her father, she sighed. The man did like his mealtimes. Not that she begrudged her ex-husband his daughter- but the separation and divorce proceedings were still rather new and she was having a hard time adjusting. Taking a larger responsibility for the children had been one change, as well as simply _noticing_ how much her children took after their father. The resemblances that had barely been noticeable while they were still married and living together were now high-lighted during the time she'd rather forget.

As if she ever could.

Pushing the thoughts away from her ex, she pulled out egg salad sandwiches, the one flavor that her picky daughter loved. Handing one to Eirik, who began to chow down immediately- again, something that resembled his father- she stood up and surveyed the equipment. But after a casual glance, she didn't see her.

"Lis? Lis, darling? Lis! Rosalind Elisabeth!" She frantically searched for any sign of her daughter. Lis _should_ have been on the swings, but she wasn't and she wasn't on slide or the jungle gym either. Dressed in blue jeans and a bright orange jacket (her father had dressed her that morning, was all she cared to remark about her daughter's clothing), she shouldn't have been hard to spot.

She wasn't there.

Glancing nervously around, she ran back- how had she ended up by the sand- and grabbed up Eirik before running towards the swings once again. "Lis! Lissy! Rosalind! Where are you? _Where are you_?" By now she had attracted the attention of other parents watching their children.

Tears running down her face, she screamed for her daughter over and over again. "Elisabeth! Rosalind Elisabeth! Come out!"

"Are-are you all right?" A concerned woman placed a hand on her shoulder and she couldn't help but shudder. "Shall- I think I'll call the police."

"She- she has to be here somewhere!" She practically dropped the boy on the ground, swirling around. "She can't just have _disappeared_- where's the science in that? My daughter- where is she? Where…is…she…?" Collapsing on the ground, she reached for and pulled at the very grass her son had been tearing up minutes before. Had it been minutes? It seemed like a life time…

As she looked up at the bright blue sky and felt the light breeze, with the scent of her daughter- it hit her. Her daughter was gone. _Missing_.

She collapsed.

"I just got here myself," Captain Jim Brass was saying as he led the responding CSIs towards the park and purposed scene of the crime. "911 call came in about half an hour ago. Lady calls in that a woman starts screaming for her daughter, can't find her. Officers responded to the scene, did a perimeter search, found no sign of the girl. The mother fainted, but she's been woken up and the son is currently being watched over by an officer."

"Two children?" Gil Grissom asked, frowning. "But only the girl is gone."

"From what witnesses say, the daughter had been 'playing' with a dead bird, mother scolded, daughter went off to play on swings, mother returned to blanket, where boy was sitting. Mother starts to get lunch ready, looks for daughter and then starts yelling." Brass shuffled his papers. "No one has talked to the mother yet- they only just got her up and were waiting for you."

"Who were the witnesses, then?" Nick Stokes asked, adjusting his sun shades.

"Other kids, their parents. They noticed when the girl went on about the dead bird. From what the witnesses said, if the mother hadn't intervened, the girl would have probably tried to autopsy it." Brass shook his head. "And then everyone noticed when the mother started screaming. This is a quiet park, in a quiet neighborhood. And it got _real_ silent after the kidnapping."

"It's been declared a kidnapping, then?" All three heads swiveled towards Greg Sanders. After over seven and a half years as a full CSI, he may not have been a rookie anymore- but that didn't mean the team stopped treating him that way. "I just mean that last time the kid purposefully went and hid in a tree, of all things. Was up there for three hours before he decided the game wasn't fun anymore and came down." Shrugging, he continued. "It could be the same kind of thing."

He really hoped it was.

"Possibly." Grissom replied. "But this is a little girl, not a nine year-old boy with a habit of running off."

"We're almost there, by the way, so I'll finish up the briefing. Mom's unresponsive, but the girl's named Rose or something similar." Brass shook his head as he eyed the youngest CSI of the group. "You going to be all right, Greg?"

Almost immediately, the two other investigators turned to face him. He was the only one of the bunch with children- small children at that- and like Catherine, he sometimes had problems working cases where children were the victims. Not that it wasn't hard for everyone, but being a parent always made it harder.

"I'll be fine." He motioned for the group to move on, but Nick and Brass were still staring at him. "Seriously. Sara's got them for the day. It's just that Rose kind of hit a cord, you know?"

"I can take you off this case if I have to," Grissom finally said. "But if this does turn out to be a full kidnapping, we're going to need everyone on it, which means I'll need you anyway."

"_It's all right_." Greg stressed. "I'll just call her later."

"Whatever, man." Nick patted him on the shoulder. "How are things going anyway?"

Rolling his eyes, Greg sighed. "Between us? Not brilliant. It's rather…complicated. Lawyers only seem to make things worse. But the kids _were_ looking forwards to seeing their mom today, during daylight."

"I'm surprised Ecklie let her have the day off. Sara working Days…" Nick shook his head.

"It's not like it's a new development, Nick. For the last seven years, we've been on different shifts. Now it's simply her turn for Days, and she seems to like it." Greg and Nick continued on behind Brass and Grissom, who had both gone silent as they neared the scene.

"I know, I know. Just saying. How _are_ you going to split custody?"

Greg groaned. "If only we knew." But he fell silent as they reached the crime scene tape, although their view was blocked by officers. Brass conferred with them as another officer lifted up the tape.

Greg and Nick caught up to Grissom to hear the officer's first hand account.

"…refuses to speak. We have the child's proper name now, though. The mother's in shock is what the medics say."

"An ID on the mother?" But Greg wasn't listening anymore to Grissom's questions. His eyes were on the woman huddled on the bumper of the ambulance, clutching her small son in her arms.

"_Sara_?"


	2. Chapter 2: Shedding Bitter Tears

Because I forgot before: I do not own CSI or anything associated with it. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement.

**Chapter 2: Sheding Bitter Tears**

_"The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and for deeds left undone_." -Harriet Beecher Stowe

"_Sara_?" Nick, Grissom and Brass all looked up at Greg's shout. And so did the forlorn woman herself. Dark brown curly hair cut shoulder length, brown eyes, pale skin- it was obvious who she was.

And it made things so much more complicated.

Without realizing it, Greg set down his kit and ran over to her. "What's going on? What are you doing here? Sara, _where's Lis_?" His voice rose with every step. He grabbed her shoulders when he reached her, gripping her with a strength he rarely used on her. He wanted to shake her, bring her out of her stupor. It took every ounce of his resolve to restrain himself- that would _not_ help matters. "_Where's my daughter_?"

Their eyes met. Though her eyes said it all, Sara still opened her mouth. "What do you think? She's gone."

"_You lost my daughter_?" If people hadn't caught on what was happening before, they certainly were now. Heads turned to stare at the former couple, the mother still clutching the son. If it had been anyone else, an officer would have come up and escorted the distraught man away. Learning that your child is lost is never easy. He would have been sat down in a patrol car, given something to drink and had the situation explained to him in a slow and clear manner. This was _not_ the mother's fault. It just happened, there was nothing anyone could do about it, and the police would make this their top priority. Perhaps not entirely placated, but at least a bit calmer, the father and mother would then be reunited and interviewed together. Things would move on, the officers would continue their job, the criminalists would gather their evidence and the parents would be escorted home to wait through the longest hours of their lives.

But this wasn't just any couple.

The officers _knew_ them. Perhaps not personally, but even though CSIs didn't wear badges, it didn't make them any less part of the team. And while at first no one had recognized the extremely distraught woman as the strong and independent investigator, now coupled with her husband, it was obvious.

What do you do when one of your own is affected?

"How- how could you lose her, Sara? How hard is it to keep track of her for _one measly day_? How could you let this _happen_?" He knew he wasn't being rational. He knew that all it took was a second and that Sara couldn't have done anything and that it wasn't her fault. And it was obvious she was hurting as much as he was. Her response before they had arrived at the scene was proof as much.

But he wasn't _being_ rational at the moment. Only _Grissom_ could be rational when his own daughter was stolen away. And he was most certainly _not_ Gil Grissom. He couldn't be expected to treat this as any other case- it would be impossible. And regardless of his and Sara's shaky relationship, she did _try_. This- it wasn't anything to do with her parenting capabilities. It was an accident, something no one could prevent. But his tortured heart wasn't listening to his scientific brain- and his mouth was connected to his heart. "Why can't you keep _track_ of our children? Why can't you be a decent moth-"

But he was cut off as her hand slapped him hard across the face.

Silence.

Then: "God _damn_ it, Greg! How _dare_ you throw that in my face? You _know-_" She fell into silence, unable to continue the sentence. Tears had started to fall, trailing down her pale cheeks. She was even more pale than usual, positively white.

But he couldn't stop himself.

"Know that you'd prefer to spend twenty hours a day in the lab instead of _five_ with your children?" He knew he wasn't being fair. He knew that this was _not_ the time to get into the battles that they had been raging inside a court room for the last month. But it was being _ripped_ from him. The hurt of their failed marriage, the hurt of losing the one woman he had believed was his _forever_- coupled with losing his only daughter? It wasn't just opening wounds. It was opening and then gouging them.

"It's five fucking hours, Sara. Nine to Two. You're off-shift, all you have to worry about is keeping Eirik and Lis alive and healthy and relatively happy for that time period. And you can't even-"

She slapped him again- or attempted to, for he had caught her hand. She squirmed in his grasp, tears-now in full force- streaming down her cheeks. "Grow _up!_ And it isn't like you're faultless either- you make just as many mistakes as I do! Only it's never 'Greg screwed up, he must be a horrible father'- it seems only _I_ get that honor."

"Sara! Greg!" She had lifted her left hand to try to slap Greg again, but this time Nick caught her and pulled her away. Brass was hauling Greg away- something that barely registered on his consciousness. He hadn't even noticed that the two men had come over until they had intervened. "What's gotten _into_ you two?" Nick kept a hold of Sara as he faced Greg. "You both know that this isn't anyone's fault- this isn't the first kidnapping you've worked." His voice was steady as he released Sara. "And- what about Eirik- did you ever think about what it might be like for _him_ to watch first his sister go missing and then his parents get into a fight not much later?"

Nick- full of rationality. Something that both parents needed at the moment.

Brass released Greg as well and both he and Sara turned to face the officer-Newman, Greg though- that was clutching the prone form of their son. Wordlessly, Greg reached out for the child.

"I-" he coughed, "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Sara softly answered, turning to Brass. "I- I assume you need my statement?"

But before Greg could answer, Grissom walked up, frowning. "Greg, you're off the case and I highly suggest taking some leave. Sara-"

"_What_?" Greg shouted, before noticing Eirik's cringe and the way he burrowed even further into his father's neck. He lowered his voice. "This is my _daughter_ we're talking about- I need to-"

"You need to be off the case _because_ it's your daughter." Grissom turned from him to Sara. "And you need to calm down as well, Sara. You two are _both_ prohibited from working or even coming near this case." Setting down his kit, he pulled out his cell phone. "Not only would it be a nightmare for whenever this gets to court, but you two have both showed how incapable you are to work this. Take the time off, get some rest, be there for your son."

"You can't take me off this case- you're not my supervisor! And why the hell is Graveyard doing this case anyway? It should be Days' case, which means I should be on it." Sara bit out, glaring daggers at the older man. "I am not just going to sit aside while you investigate _my_ daughter!"

"Neither am I." Greg cut in before Grissom could reply. "You already said before that if this _did_ turn out to be a full blown kidnapping, you'd need everyone on it- _including me_. You can't just-"

"I have to." Grissom said, as he lowered his kit onto the ground and replaced the cell on his belt. "Sara, the reason Graveyard is covering this is because we were already on a double shift and as you know, Days is understaffed at the moment. And Greg, I'll still manage this case without you. _Especially_ now."

"You can't do that!" The ex-couple shouted, causing Grissom to do no more than turn around and look at them both.

More silence until he finally opened his mouth. "Go home, both of you. Catherine will meet you there."

* * *

They weren't happy about it, but an officer- one Sara didn't know the name of- lead them to a squad car. "I'm Officer James and I'll be driving you two home. Do you need your cars driven back?"

She'd almost prefer the screaming from earlier, than this quiet pity. She always hated it when people pitied her- and this…_situation_ was just going to turn out to be one huge pity party.

At least she knew how to deal with screaming.

Her first thirteen years were full of screaming and yelling and screeching and roaring. At first she'd hide in her closet with her stuffed dog, out of sight behind the clothes hanging there. When she was older, she would turn on the television to tune out the yells. Only then would she turn it on, usually preferring to read or do some silent activity. Even now, the television was still connected to her attempts to drown out her parents' yelling- which was one of the main reasons she never was one for watching TV.

Greg wasn't much of a screamer. Even during their most heated fights- like the one when she forgot to come home and attend Lissy's sixth birthday four months ago- she had been the one to resort to raising her voice first. It was only after her badgering, that Greg finally joined in, spewing his thoughts like heated barbs- barbs that hurt much more than either of them realized.

That had been the final straw to their already rickety marriage.

"Ma'am?"

Officer James brought her out of her thoughts. Suddenly everything hit her again. This was _not_ the time to lose herself in the past- her daughter was gone- _taken_, her mind added, _when you were supposed to be watching her- what a great mother you must be_- and they were standing in front of a squad car while the police and crime lab attempted to make some sense of and progress on the situation.

"I-I'll be fine." She smiled shakily and Greg's tacit look conveyed to her that he didn't believe her one bit.

Officer James didn't seem to believe her either, but she didn't press. "Cars?"

_What- oh, right._ She cleared her throat. "My Denali- it's in the parking lot."

"Grissom drove, my car's at the lab." Greg shifted Eirik in his arms. Sara almost reached out to take him- but then stopped. She didn't really trust herself with him at the moment…

"We'll need a car seat," Greg continued.

"I think it will be fine to have this one trip without one," the policewoman answered back, opening up the backseat door of the cruiser. "As long as you keep a good grip on him, he should be okay."

Greg didn't protest, which was another sign that he wasn't as fine as he looked either. Greg had dived head first into the parenting pool- reading safety manuals, buying childproof locks (locks that she and he couldn't get open sometimes), making sure that the entire house was childproof and safe and a great place for raising kids. In any other situation, even the mere thought of having Eirik ride in a car without the proper seat would be blasphemy to the man.

She watched Greg get in first, cradling Eirik's head so that he didn't hit it on the door frame as he got in. _Greg_, she mused, _had been _meant _to be a father. Unlike me,_ she added bitterly

Sara climbed in herself, buckling up, noticing that Greg had managed to stretch the belt over both him and Eirik. They looked like a picture, she realized. Both she and Greg were both natural (because with Greg, you always had to stress the 'natural') brunettes, with curls. But Lis, like her, had a much darker color than Eirik's chocolate locks he had inherited from his dad. And though Eirik did seem to have her nose and the shape of her eyes, otherwise, his face largely belonged to Greg. Seeing them so close together would have been…sweet, if it weren't for the current situation they happened to be in. Eirik was too old, she thought, to be toted around like a baby.

But…maybe she was wrong.

How well did she _really_ know her kids?

"Where to?" by now the car was moving and Officer James was pulling out of the park.

Clearing his throat, Greg answered first. "Um, we're separated, but probably my place. 1112 Avellino Lane. That's where both Lis and Eirik sleep and that's probably will be where Grissom sends Catherine."

"Right." Sara answered almost inaudibly.

She _hated_ feeling this lost and hopeless.

"Okay, then." The woman fiddled with the controls of the dispatch radio and started to drive. The car lapsed once again into silence and Sara yearned for some kind of noise. Apparently Eirik heard her prayers, because his fast tiny hand reached for and succeeded in grabbing Greg's Mag Lite, which he began to swing around, almost beaming Greg on the head with it.

It brought a smile to her face.

For a fleeting second, she had smiled.

She felt as if she had betrayed Lissy somehow, by feeling amusement for a second.

She wanted her little girl back. She wanted to pick her up and wrap her in a hug and listen to her chatter over her Clifford books and ant farm Uncle Gris had given her for her birthday present- the same birthday where Sara had been the only one absent from- and tuck her in at night.

She wanted to be a _mom_ again.

She hadn't wanted that in years.

"Whoa, kiddo!" Greg's shout and light speed reflexes saved her inches from getting hit _hard_ on the head with the light Eirik was still wielding. "That's it, Eirik. Give Daddy's flashlight back." Shoved up against the door, she watched Greg nimbly grab the flashlight back- and pass it to her.

She stared at him. What the hell was she supposed to do with a flashlight?

"Take it." Greg sing-songed, as he pried his latex gloves away from Eirik as well, and the pen too. "Hurry, while I'm distracting him." He quickly changed his demeanor, clapping his hands with Eirik as he chanted "_patty cake, patty cake, baker's man, bake me a cake as fast as you can_."

Sara just watched in wonder, clutching a pair of gloves, a flashlight and a pen.

And tears began to slowly trickle down her cheeks again.


	3. Chapter 3: The Nerve of Sorrow

**Chapter 3: **The Nerve of Sorrow

"_Guilt is the very nerve of sorrow."_- Horace Bushnell

"Sara left the blanket and basket here," Nick finally cut in, after the silence of Greg and Sara's departure. "Shall I process them?" He didn't really feel a need to, but he had to do _something_ to get rid of the silence. This was going to be one hell of a crime scene to process. Experienced criminalist or not, investigating the kidnapping of your surrogate niece, who was one of the few people who actually _liked_ your country music, was torture.

He had held Lissy the day after she was born- just like all the other CSIs who would end up working the case. Just like Brass, the captain acting as primary detective. Shortly put- this case was going to suck.

Better get started, then.

"No need." Grissom finally spoke. "Did anyone get an official statement from Sara?"

Silence.

Just more proof, Nick decided, that this case was different. Normally, the parents wouldn't have been allowed to move an inch before a statement was taken. And here they were already on their way home, without saying anything at all.

He was suddenly very glad he wasn't primary CSI on this case.

"Jim-" Grissom didn't even finish his sentence before Brass cut in.

"I'll go to their place. They move in the last three months?"

"Sara did." Nick found himself saying. "She moved out. But Greg kept the house and the kids are still living with him." Pointless information, a simple 'no' would have sufficed. But…he felt like he needed to say something to fill the silence. And why _was_ the silence bothering him so much?

When working a scene, the investigators rarely held conversations. They were too focused on their work and the evidence. Sure, they'd ask questions or occasionally joke or comment, but often enough they lapsed into silence and it was never bothersome. They needed to concentrate on the evidence after all and it seemed the silence was the best way to do that- except for Greg. The man had a habit of just…talking. Geez, if Nick hadn't known better, he would have thought the man was stuck up, in love with hearing his own voice. But the truth was that it was just _Greg_- one of the man's many quirks and he did realize when silence was needed and oh, the way he looked, when he realized the woman was Sara…

_Do _not _think about Greg, Stokes. Concentrate._

How the heck was he supposed to do that?

"Then I'll go there." Brass broke through the silence. Putting away his notepad, he turned before leaving. It was almost as if he _knew_ what Nick was thinking. "We'll find her."

Nick could only hope.

Grissom's cell phone decided to ring at that time and Nick felt vaguely idiotic just standing there. He needed to treat this as a normal case, no matter abnormal it really was. A kidnapping- check the perimeter, check the bathrooms, check the parking lot, check the trees. Interview everyone, ask about suspicious characters or events. Did they remember Lissy? What had she been doing? _Follow protocol, Stokes, and don't freeze up like an idiot. Be the seasoned investigator you are._

"No, Catherine. You'll need to go straight to the house. 1112 Avellino Lane. Brass will meet you there. I need Warrick at the scene." Grissom hung up without ever revealing the identity of the victim. Nick raised his brow.

"Are you planning on surprising her? Or why didn't you say anything?"

"She knows the address." Grissom's answer was short, curt- and held much more meaning than intended.

Nick stared at a moment, before opening his mouth. "You- you _want_ her to go in there unaware. But why? Don't you think it would be best for her to be prepared?"

"I told her the address." Grissom only said, before picking up his kit.

"Yeah, but she's not going to recognize it. Not when she's not expecting it. It won't be until she gets there that she'll know."

"Just process the scene, Nick." And he walked off to go examine the swings, where Lissy was supposedly last seen.

Nick stared after him, before going to interview witnesses.

_What was up with the man_?

* * *

Tapping her hands on the steering wheel, Catherine hummed softly along with the radio, while waiting for the red light. Gil had been quite…short, on the phone. Not that the man was ever extremely wordy- but he _did_ usually reveal a bit more. And he had also…_sounded_ different. Shrugging, she stepped on the gas as the light turned and turned down the road. He probably just had a bit of a cold- they were going around.

But when the scenery became more and more familiar, Catherine frowned. This was near where Greg and Sara lived, wasn't it? What was their address again? Something with an 'A'…and Lane. And the numbers were consecutive. Damn it, this was going to annoy her. Her eyes fell on the address she had scribbled down on the pad on the dash. _1112 Avellino Lane_…

She almost reached for her cell to call them and make sure. But- it was ridiculous. Gil would have said something, if it was them. And she was sure that Lissy and Eirik were both fine. She had just seen them the day before yesterday, when Greg had had them for a bit in the lab. He had commandeered the TV and VCR in the break room to play _Mulan_ for them, she remembered- and eventually had most of the Nightshift watching it as well. It had been a _really_ slow night….

_They're both fine_, she told herself. _It's just probably a neighbor. Plus- if something did happen to one of them, Greg would be off the case, and Grissom hadn't mentioned anything about that._

But as she turned the last corner and saw the squad cars parked in front of the familiar house- she knew.

_Oh my God…_

She had been lucky with Lindsey. For all her teenage tactics, the worst that had happened was her hitch-hiking. And even when Eddie had been murdered and Lindsey had been trapped in the car- Lindsey had turned out fine. Scared, of course. But everything had worked out.

Kidnappings were an entirely different story.

It all depended on the reason, of course. There were several different kinds- and all with different outcomes. But the basics were the same- you never knew. You never could know, until you had actually found the child. And while the crime lab did have a very high solve rate- there were still cases they never solved.

Kidnappings were the worst.

She _hated_ them.

Parking across the street, she hurried around to get her kit before walking over to their house. She had been there many times, for several different occasions. But this- this was definitely the worst. A sedan pulled in the driveway and Catherine recognized it as Brass'. She hesitated on the walkway for a moment, allowing him to catch up to her.

"It's-" She started to ask, but stopped, not knowing how to continue.

"Yeah." Brass shook his head. "Completely unexpected too- she had fainted and had just woken up when I arrived there with Gil, Nick and Greg. No one knew a thing towards the identity until Greg sees her sitting there. And I still haven't gotten a statement," he adds, lifting up his notepad. "It wasn't a pleasant scene."

"I didn't expect it would be." Taking a large breath, she rang the doorbell.

It was an officer that opened the door, leading them inside after they identified themselves. "They're in the living room."

While neither she nor Brass needed help finding their way, they both followed the officer anyway. The living room was a spacious room with a fireplace Greg and Sara kept blocked off, a comfy couch, a few armchairs and a desk, along with several bookshelves, filled with everything from _Winnie the Pooh_ to the latest AAFS newsletter. There was also a very nice sound system and a TV hidden away in a cabinet, along with a legion of different movies.

It was a nice room, ready for entertaining, but also ready for kids. But today, the comfy feel of the room was gone. Another officer stood to the right of the door as they entered, while Sara was sitting helplessly in an armchair and Greg was pacing with Eirik. Another officer was currently trying to speak to Sara, who was not responding.

The room felt dead.

There may not have been any bodies around, or blood or anything else that hinted towards a murder. And there was certainly a chance that Lissy was okay. Being kidnapped didn't mean she was dead, thank heavens. And while yes, there were certainly kidnappings that turned into murders… Catherine shuddered. She didn't want to think of that. But still… so far, there was no reason not to believe that Lissy was going to be all right.

_So why is it so hard?_

Perhaps it was because they _couldn't_ fool themselves. Each and every one of them had worked kidnappings before and they all knew how they worked. Investigating them was bad enough. You raced against the clock, hoping, praying that you'd solve the case in time. But this time- it was personal. While working the case, Lissy would be in their minds, the way she was so thrilled to get her ant farm from Gil, the way she delighted over the piano music Warrick had gotten her, the way she had decided she wanted to be a hero just like Mulan the other night. This was _Lissy_.

"Hey…" Brass broke the silence, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. Taking her cue, she stepped inside and put down her kit. "Sara, I need to get your statement now. You mind?"

"It's okay." Her voice was hoarse. "Here?"

"Here's fine." He walked over and Catherine realized it was her turn now.

"And I'll need DNA samples, something for the scent dogs- you know the drill," she nodded at Greg. The man was still in his field vest and clothes from the crime scene, and if it hadn't been for the despondent look on his face, she would have thought he was still working.

"Right…" He lowered Eirik to the floor, before straightening and running a hand through his hair. "Um, Lis' blanket would probably be the best for scent- she sleeps with it every night, used to carry it around with her everywhere…haven't gotten around to washing it in a while. I- I'll go grab it…"

She hated seeing the normally upbeat and cheery CSI so full of hurt. She watched him move past her, back into the hall, before she turned to Eirik, who was still standing where Greg left him. It occurred to her that Eirik probably had no idea what was going on. Which, in a way, she could understand- he was only two. On the other hand, even at two he was able to sense something was wrong- she could read it in his expression.

He wanted his mother.

And Sara was just _sitting_ there.

Before she could do anything, Greg came thundering down the stairs, a baby quilt clutched in his hands. He was also minus the vest, she noticed. "Here, this is her blanket, and I'll go get the DNA samples, they're in the fridge."

He almost left right then, but then he seemed to notice Eirik, who was now standing beside Sara, holding his arms up to her as he repeated 'Mammy' over and over again. Sara was still oblivious, however. Brass was talking to the officer who had been trying to communicate with Sara before, and Sara was just…staring…off into the distance.

Greg frowned. "Sara?" No response. "Sara?" Still no response. Catherine watched as his eyes narrowed. "_Sara_!" he practically yelled, causing everyone in the room to turn to him. The woman he had actually wanted to get the attention of turned towards him vaguely. He motioned towards Eirik. "Eirik. He wants you."

"Oh."

If the last hour had not existed, Catherine would have slapped her upside the head for that remark. But chalking up some of her listlessness to the horrid experience she had just gone through previously, Catherine decided to give her a break.

A small one.

She knew that Sara had always had a problem…identifying as a mother. She understood that Sara had had a terrible childhood and had little to no experience with children until she was a mother herself. And yes, she realized that being a mother meant different things to different people. But unlike Greg, who was also new to parenting when he became a father- Sara had very little will to _learn_ how to be a parent. Both of them had made mistakes- stupid, new parent things like putting on the diapers backwards. But while Greg had been eager to learn the right way- every mistake Sara made just seemed to push her away.

Catherine couldn't really sympathize with that.

And that was one of the main problems between the two women.

"So pick him up." Greg finally spelled out as Sara just sat there staring at her son.

"Oh." She jerkily leaned down to plop him in her lap.

"I'll go get the samples now," Greg finally muttered, but this time she followed him as he left.

The kitchen was a spacious room, and a nice room, decorated comfortably with flowered curtains and bright tiles and dishes. But there was no reason there should be DNA belonging to Lissy in the kitchen- not unless Greg intended to use a glass she had recently used. And as a former DNA tech himself, he would certainly know that the easiest way to get DNA was a tooth brush, not a used cup or utensil.

That is, until Greg reached into the fridge and brought out a rack of test tubes and DNA swabs in evidence boxes.

He grinned at her look. "What? Yes, I'll admit to swabbing and taking blood from them both when they were babies." He sobered up. "I always figured it was 'just in case'- not that anything would ever happen…"

She gave him a reassuring smile as she took the blood filled test tube and swab from him. Both were already labeled 'RES, 09/25/07' – her initials and birth date and Catherine placed them in the evidence bag she had ready. Then she turned- and hugged him.

He stiffened at first, but then he relaxed, squeezing her back once, before stepping back. There were tears in his eyes, but she could see that he was fighting against them when he gave a slightly choked chuckle. "I look that bad?"

"Yes," she said frankly, before giving him supporting smile. "You do. You're still in the clothes you started last night's shift in and you were on a double before Gil pulled you off. You need at least a change of clothes and a shower, and I'd also suggest sleep and tea."

He frowned at the word 'tea'. "I hate tea."

"Whatever then- just I wouldn't recommend caffeine until you actually get some _real_ sleep." She sealed the evidence bag and initialed it. Turning to him, she became staid. "I'm not going to lie or sugar-coat anything, Greg. No point. The fact is, you and Sara are both going through hell now, and it will only get worse until we find her. Get some rest, clean up, spend some time with your son and try not to dwell, if that's possible. Gil's got the entire team on this case. We _will_ find her. Just try to hold on until then."

"I-" He opened up his mouth, and she could see the tears running down his cheeks- tangible proof that the battle he had been fighting inside himself had been lost. "I can't just _sit_ back, not when-"

"You _have_ to." She met his eyes with hers. "You know you can't be on this case. Trust us, Greg."

And she left, leaving the despairing man behind her.

* * *

_She doesn't like it anymore. It's cold and it's dark and it's not fun. Not like it was supposed to be. She wants to move, but she can't. She's tied up too tight. She wants a blanket. She wants _her _blanket. She wants her brother and her dad and she even wants her mom. Even though her mom's been weird lately._

_She's missing Scooby Doo. She loves Scooby Doo- he's the coolest dog detective _ever_. It comes on in the afternoon and her dad always lets her watch it. He even watches it _with _her sometimes. Her watch glows in the dark and she can read that it's 1:14 pm and Scooby's been on for fourteen minutes already. Her daddy taught her how to tell time. _

_She wants her daddy. _

_He can be weird sometimes, but he's fun. She wonders if he's already looking for her. He _has _to be. And her mom- her mom would have seen her go away. Her mom would have told her dad and they would have _both _done something. Even though her mom and dad have been mad at each other lately._

_It's so dark._

_She hates the dark. At home she has a nice lamp in the corner of her room. It stays on _all _night and she never has to be afraid of the dark. Even if it's afternoon and Scooby is on, it's still dark. She shivers._

_Footsteps._

_She stops wriggling and looks up as the noise gets louder. Maybe someone is there and they'll save her! "Daddy! Mommy! Help me!"_

_Then the steps stop and the door opens up. She looks up, blinking against the sudden onslaught of light. There's…_something _there…legs, and a body and arms, and then she looks up to see the face._

_She freezes._

_She screams._


	4. Chapter 4: Hiding From Hostile Light

**Chapter 4:** Hiding From Hostile Light

"_Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night;_

_Oh, night and stars, return!_

_And hide me from the hostile light_

_That does not warm, but burn;"_- Emily Brontë, _Stars_.

"She was so weird. Really, if her mother hadn't come over, I would've gone myself. Trying to pick apart the poor animal…" Nick nodded, motioning for the woman to continue. She was one of the many witnesses he had to interview, but so far, no one had seen anything important.

Nick doubted this woman had seen anything either.

"It's not _natural_! She's a little girl, she's supposed to be playing with dollies and having tea parties. Why, when my Michelle was that young, she used to love dressing up and having tea parties with her stuffed animals. Now _that's_ what little girls are supposed to do- not play with dead animals. That's just _morbid_. And that girl's _mother_!" Nick had kept a smile on his face, albeit it being very strained. But now he suddenly began to frown as the woman continued. "It doesn't surprise me at all that the girl's gone, not when her mother is so negligent. She should have spanked the child, not allowed her to play. I dare say she deserves-"

"Thank you, ma'am." Nick cut in, clenching his teeth. "But regardless of _anyone's_ parenting skills, no one deserves to have their child stolen. Did you see anything pertinent to the kidnapping?"

"Oh no," the woman said, looking flustered at being interrupted. "I just saw the young girl stomp off to the play ground, before I turned back to my Adam." She patted the little boy by her side on the head- causing him to wince.

"I see…that will be all." Nick turned away, shaking his head. That woman had not only talked his ear off, but she had also insulted one of his close friends and his surrogate niece as well. Who needed dollies, anyway? Sighing, he surveyed the park. Grissom was no where to be seen, and other officers were interviewing the rest of the witnesses.

He set off towards the swings, where Lissy was purported to have been. Getting prints would be a nightmare, but at least they could identify if she had actually been there or not.

"Hey!" Looking up, he smiled.

"Rick." Warrick was striding towards him, evidence kit in hand. Then it dawned on him that the man was looking a bit too…composed for the scene. "You learn anything about the vic yet?" He hated using such an distant word for Lissy- to think of her as well as Greg and Sara as _victims_.

They were too strong for that.

And yet, just like millions of families across the country, they had lost a child.

Victim was the very word that described them at the moment. No matter how painful it might be.

"No." Setting down his kit, he straightened up. "What's up, man? And where's Grissom?"

"No clue where Grissom is. As for what's up…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "You ready for this?"

"Of course. It's a kidnapping. Not pretty, but-" Warrick shrugged. "It's not that _unusual_ either. Mom and kids are at park, girl goes to play, disappears. If we're lucky, we have a witness, evidence, something that lets us move forwards. If we're not…" He let the sentence hang.

"Yeah, well, for how _normal_ this case looks, it isn't." Nick's voice rose. "It's anything but, no matter how Grissom wants to treat it."

"Whoa." Holding up his hands, the man frowned. "What's wrong? As far as I can see, this is a regular kidnapping case."

"It's the victim that makes it different, Warrick." Nick sounded deflated and Warrick looked worried. "Brass went to interview the mother, because she was sent off without being interviewed. The father-"

"Wait a second, you released the mom without even getting her name? Because when I got the call, the mom was still unidentified and unconscious. And you let her _go_?"

"We know where to find them. We know everything about them, actually. Believe me, it's not a case where one of the parents knows more than they're letting on. And I know that once it gets out, this case is not only going to be watched by the department, but by the media as well. This case is _big_ and we're all involved."

_Now_ Warrick was worried. "What, some friend of the sheriff's kid got kidnapped? Or someone in the department? Who has kids?" He thought for a second.

"It's not 'official', but the victim's name is Rosalind," Nick continued, watching Warrick's expression carefully. Still no recognition was on his face- which wasn't all that surprising. Ever since Lissy had been an infant, she had been called Lissy. It was easy to forget her true first name. "Rosalind Elisabeth," he continued, and watched Warrick's face fall.

"Damn." He looked around the scene. "_Lissy_? Lissy is missing? So the mother- that was _Sara_?"

Nick nodded gravely.

"Whoa." He bent down and picked up his kit. "How'd Greg take it?" He asked, as he began to walk towards the concrete structure labeled 'bathroom'.

"How do you think?" Nick questioned, following. "Badly. If you think it was bad not knowing anything, when _we_ arrived, Greg was the first one to notice her. Not a pretty scene."

"Lissy," Warrick shook his head. "Totally not what I was expecting. Anyone see anything?"

"Not so far." They reached the bathroom and Nick sighed. "I'm going to print the swings. Have fun."

"Yeah. Will do." Warrick replied dryly as he entered, preparing to look for evidence. "It's going to be a fucking walk in the park."

Sara wasn't cooperating.

In a way, he couldn't blame her. He remembered well the way he acted when Ellie got in trouble, and he was very glad she had finally taken him up on his offer to pay for a trip to get clean. It took a _lot_ of weight off of his shoulders.

The truth was that children were the one weakness of parents.

And it was now playing hell on Sara.

She just _sat_ there, holding Eirik in her lap. Gone was the serious, dedicated CSI he had known for years. Even in times of duress, she had always kept a clear head. From the lab explosion to Nick's kidnapping to his own shooting to Warrick's accident a few years ago and everything in between- she had always been calm and collected.

Now she was broken.

"Sara, start at the beginning. You went to the park. Why?"

Nothing. She just sat there staring at the opposite wall, her son curled up against her.

"Sara." He moved closer, bent down. "_Sara_." He snapped his fingers in her face. She blinked.

"You have to work with me. Why did you go to the park? Did anyone know beforehand that you were going? Was it planned? When did you go? What did you do when you got there?"

She stayed reticent.

Brass had interviewed heaps of witnesses and victims and criminals in his time as a detective and he knew there were different kinds. Some wouldn't shut up, some required prodding and some wouldn't talk if you set them on fire. The latter was usually reserved for suspects, criminals and those who 'saw nothing' or had gone temporarily blind and deaf during the execution of the crime. The first two, however, also pertained to victims and witnesses. And he was _excellent_ at getting information out of unwilling victims and witnesses.

You just had to know how to play them. Sometimes a taunt, sometimes condolence, sometimes sympathy, sometimes apathy, sometimes just treating them like a normal person when no one else would- it all depended on the person. He enjoyed the challenge of figuring out what would fit each person. It was a bit like gambling in a way- you only had so many chances before you struck out and the person called for a lawyer.

Facing Sara, however, was different. For one thing, she knew his tactics- she was skilled at interviewing herself. And for another, none of them really fit. And she was also semi-immune to them all, being in law enforcement herself. Getting information out of her was going to be a challenge.

And not a very pleasant one either.

"Sara, you need to talk to me about this."

Still no response.

By now the other two officers in the room were watching him. It was a bit embarrassing, he had to admit. A seasoned police captain and he couldn't get information out of a _friend_. Of course, this friend happened to be traumatized, but that wasn't the point.

Sighing, he leaned down and ran a hand over Eirik's sleeping form. "It'll be all right, Sara. We will find her. We're going to try our damn hardest to find the bastard and save Lissy."

"I know." Her voice was faint. "I know."

"Then you have to tell me what happened," he reasoned with her.

"It's my fault." She whispered it. "Greg was right- I _am_ a horrible mother." She began to raise her voice. "It's _my_ fault- I lost my _daughter_! What kind of a mother does that? And Catherine- I could see the disgust on her face when she saw me. I've just given her the proof she needed that I was a negligent mother. And everyone else- what will they think? My God, I let my six year-old get kidnapped. I might as well hang a sign on my forehead; warn kids and their parents away from me. I went from a drunk with inappropriate feelings for her boss to an atrocious wife and mother and now I'm just paying for it."

She started to stand, becoming more and more agitated every moment. The slight problem with this was that Eirik was still sleeping in her lap. And as she stood, there wasn't any lap left for him to be in. Ergo, he started to fall.

Without thinking, Brass dropped his pad and practically lunged to catch the child. It was a miracle that he didn't wake up, but he had been compared to his father- who could sleep like a log through the loudest parts of any Marilyn Manson song. Something that definitely made Brass glad- he didn't need a crying child to go along with the hysterical mother.

And just where _was_ Sanders?

He had heard the door open and shut, which must have been Catherine. And since officers were posted to keep unwanted people out and the residents in (Gil had suggested that measure- knowing the two of them, it wasn't all that unlikely that they'd try to sneak out and go to the lab to work on the case), Greg still had to be in the house. Somewhere. It was a big house.

Holding Eirik carefully, he still reached out to steady Sara, who was wavering where she stood. He was not a paramedic or doctor, but he could guess that she was _not_ doing well physically, as well as emotionally.

"Hang on there, Sara." He held her shoulder. "Are you all right?" One arm still clamped around Eirik, he guided her back to sitting with the other hand. "You should stay sitting for a minute."

She nodded, her cheeks wet with tears.

He _really_ hated women crying. Like any man, it made him uncomfortable. And for it to be her was worse. "Um, here." He fished out a handkerchief from his pocket. _Where the hell was Greg?_

She took it wordlessly, but did not use it. Instead, she sat wringing it in her hands. Finally, she looked up.

And spoke.

"Now that I'm on Days, we've been trying to figure out a schedule that works for the four of us. Since I had the day off, it was decided that I would take them from nine till two- five hours, from when Nora- the sitter-left and Greg could get off or Nora could take them again. So…I did." Shaking her head, she sighed.

"I admit that I'm not good at all this '_mom_' stuff, and I didn't know what to do with them. So I asked Lissy what she wanted to do and she said she wanted to go to the park- so we did. No one knew before hand, no one could have known. It wasn't planned, we arrived there about ten. Eirik wanted to swing at first, so I pushed him some, and then I sat in the sand with him, until we moved to the blanket. Lissy…just played everywhere. Slides, jungle gym, swings, teeter totter, everything. Played with some other kids occasionally. Then they found that bird and she was starting to mess with it and I told her not to and sent her off to swing." Her voice lost the monotone nature when she choked. "I sent her off- and didn't see her again."

"Explain what happened to me _exactly_. From the time you sent her off to the swings."

She closed her eyes and Brass bounced Eirik a bit. He didn't want to force the kid back on her, but his arms were getting tired. "I…" She shook her head. "I don't really remember. I started to get lunch ready. I had packed food and drinks. I passed a sandwich to Eirik and then I looked for Lissy- and that's when I realized she was gone."

"Did you see anyone near her?" He fell into the normal routine for questioning, drawing information out of her slowly. "Did you notice anyone suspicious at all during your time in the park?"

"No." She shook her head. "I- I didn't see anyone. Mothers, children, a few teenagers, baby-sitters, a few fathers- nothing suspicious. It was peaceful and we were actually having _fun_ before Lissy went missing…" She seemed surprised to admit that they had had fun and Brass wondered about her relationship with the kids. He tried to stay out of her personal life and marriage on a normal day, but there was lab and police gossip, plus with Lissy missing, her life- private or not- now became his business.

All of it.

With such a high statistic for estranged or non-custodial parents as the suspects of kidnappings, he _had_ to delve into her marriage and life. Not that Greg would do such a thing- plus he couldn't have a better alibi than an entire crime lab full of acclaimed expert witnesses. And that if he and Sara _did_ split, he'd get custody anyway. At least that's what the rumors said. In other words, there was no motive at all. But protocol demanded a closer look at the family. Not just the husband, but the grandparents and siblings and former relationships and oh, just about every part of their lives.

"Sara, do you have any idea of who might want to hurt you or your family? Or who would have motive to kidnap Lissy?"

Someone snorted behind him and Brass turned to look at Greg. The man was looking…perkier. At least, he didn't look so damn exhausted or pallid as he had before. Then again, his eyes were still red and belied his appearance. Brass was betting on a quick shot or a _lot_ of caffeine- and decided to go with the caffeine. Greg wasn't the type to drink at such a time.

"Who _doesn't_?" He asked, walking towards him and holding his arms out for Eirik. Brass gladly handed him over. The two year-old was _big_. "I'd say about half the prison population in Clark County as well as a good number of 'ex'-cons, disgruntled family members, disgruntled witnesses or victims or pretty much anyone we ever had to investigate would be on that list."

"Point." Brass pulled out his pad again. The man was right- with both her parents CSIs, the list of people with grudges was enormous. "Any spring to mind?"

"No…" Greg shook his head and bounced Eirik a little. "Obviously those currently in prison are out. But otherwise? None stand out."

"Yeah, well, I'll have someone pull all your old case files, see if there's anything there."

"Good luck with that." Greg glanced towards his wife? Ex-wife? Brass still wasn't sure. "You're going to need it- we've worked hundreds of cases when you combine both of ours together."

"Thanks," he answered dryly. "And- for the media- do you have a recent picture of Lissy, as well as a description of what she was wearing?"

"She was wearing jeans and an orange jacket," Sara spoke up, startling both men. "Sneakers, I think."

"She was wearing Gap blue jeans with embroidery of flowers on the cuffs, a Gap orange sweat jacket, a pink and orange stripped shirt, also from Gap, her golden locket and her Scooby Doo watch." Greg corrected. At Brass's stare, he shrugged. "Practically her entire wardrobe is from Gap. It's her favorite store. And she rarely takes off her watch or locket."

"And a recent photo?"

Greg shifted Eirik around. "You need one of her alone, right? Then I might have one- I took it the other day." He handed his son back to his wife- who took him gingerly- and picked up his cell phone from the table by the living room door. He flicked through the menu, and finally chose something, holding the phone out. Brass took it and examined the picture.

Lissy was in pajamas, clutching a stuffed Scooby Doo plush (the girl was in love with the cartoon mystery-solving dog) and her blanket as she smiled largely at the camera. A TV in the background showed a still from some animated movie and Brass recognized the counter and coffee maker of the crime lab break room in there as well. This must have been taken at the 'famous' sleep-over. When he had walked in the crime lab a few nights ago, he had known it was a slow night. But that it was so slow for five CSIs to be watching a _Disney_ movie with a six year-old and a two year-old- that he hadn't expected. He still had been roped into watching a bit, though.

Lissy could be quite convincing.

"That was a nice night." He commented. "Can you print out the picture or send it to me?"

"Sending it to you now," Greg said as he took the phone back. "And yeah," he said, smiling wistfully, "It was nice. Unexpected, but nice."

"We'll get her back," he found himself saying. He felt like he should make some attempt to reassure Greg and Sara, even though he knew they'd see right through it. Lying to a CSI was never easy. Or recommended. Suddenly, his own cell rang and he frowned. This wasn't the picture- this was the ring signaling a call. He opened it up.

"Brass."

"Jim, it's Gil. We've got a witness."


	5. Chapter 5: Opposition

**Chapter 5: **Opposites

"_I have a very strong feeling that the opposite of love is not hate -- its apathy._" - Leo Buscaglia

Follow the bugs.

The bugs, like evidence, never lied. They never hid the truth. They couldn't be manipulated. And they were telling him that the bird had died a week ago.

Park workers didn't leave dead birds lying on the ground near the playground for a week. That was just asking for the city to be sued. Parents didn't care for their little ones to be playing near decomposing corpses- human or otherwise. Therefore, the bird had to be planted- and fairly recently.

Question: Who would plant a dead bird?

Answer: Someone who had a motive to do so.

Question: What could that purpose be?

Answer: What effect did the bird have?

Answer to the question that answered the motive question: Lissy Sanders found great interest in the bird.

Question: Where was Lissy Sanders now?

Answer: She was missing.

Conclusion: The bird was planted, drew Lissy to it, and she was kidnapped. Reasonable thought process? Yes. Did the evidence back up said conclusion? Unknown as of yet. Process to determine that? Collect evidence, process bird, perhaps perform autopsy.

Grissom bagged the bird.

He concentrated fully on his work. He wouldn't dare think about little Lissy. He would _not_ become emotionally involved. This was a case- like any other. It wasn't important that both her parents were close personal friends or that he had known her since her birth or that he had given her an ant farm for her sixth birthday and she had brought it with her whenever one of her parents brought her into the lab, to show it to him.

It didn't matter.

It couldn't matter.

This was just a normal case.

He stood up from his crouched position, one hand immediately going to his back. He really needed to get that checked out- but he simply didn't have the time. And he hated going to doctors… Every visit he was fearful that they would discover something to keep him from working.

He couldn't stop working.

The evidence- the cases- the job was his _life_.

Surveying the ground, he noticed an ant trail and followed it. Ant trails weren't uncommon in parks, but ant trails in crime scenes- no matter how normal they appeared to be- were cause for investigation. And he was awarded.

Quickly glancing around all the trees in the park, he realized something.

Someone had made the effort to leave dead birds around the park. Birds in different stadiums of decay- but dead birds nonetheless. And while most of them were your garden variety of sparrow, there were some that looked different.

He'd need an ornithologist.

He picked bugs off of all the carcasses, bagged the carcasses, bagged the bugs, ignored the pain in his back. He followed the evidence. He tuned out the world around him.

They had to find her.

_No_, he corrected himself, _they had to find the victim. The missing child. Not 'her'. Not anyone you know._

He knew Nick was ticked at him. But he couldn't tell Catherine and Warrick and let them get emotionally involved before they even started looking at the evidence. They _had_ to play this case right. They _had_ to be distant, as they normally would be. They _had_ to work this like any other case.

They couldn't let their emotions get in the way.

Too much was at stake.

"Hey, Grissom! We have a witness!"

It snapped him out of his reverie immediately.

Nick was striding towards him. Grissom finished packing up the evidence bags and containers. "Officer Bilder found a girl who saw something," Nick continued. "Warrick's finished with the bathrooms- nothing out of the ordinary there. And I printed the swings and got a load of prints that Jaqui's going to love me for, but other than that, nothing imperative to the investigation. Catherine called- she's on her way to the lab. Brass is still with Greg and Sara."

"Good." They walked towards the police tape and vehicles were the officers were standing with a teenager. Grissom sized her up. She looked to be in her mid-teens, blonde, blue eyed, dressed decently. She had a backpack hanging off her shoulder and no parents in the vicinity. Either school trip- though school had just gotten out for the summer at most schools- or she just had come to hang out. He figured the second option.

"Mr. Grissom, this is Abigail Carver." The officer- most likely Bilder- introduced the young girl. Turning back to her, he smiled. "Abby, Mr. Grissom would like to ask you some questions."

"That's fine." She smiled pleasantly, stretching out her hand. "Hello, Mr. Grissom."

"What did you see?" He asked, ignoring the hand. She looked surprised at his bluntness, but he ignored it.

"Well," she said flustered, "I was standing over there." She pointed at the grass to the left of the swings. "I like to sit under the tree there and just think, write, draw, listen to my iPod…" She shrugged. "At home, it's always loud and crowded. There are seven kids in my family and well, peace is practically unheard of."

Grissom frowned. Had she just turned to Nick when she mentioned the seven kids? She continued on and Grissom filed the information away for later.

"So I like to go to the park. It's not exactly _quiet_, but I'm used to the noise and I get left alone and I like the air. It's nice out here." She smiled. "School's out for the summer, so I get up at like eight- which is sleeping in at my house- and grab breakfast and pack a lunch and spend the next nine or so hours here."

"You're here every day from when to when?" Nick interrupted.

"I'm here from around nine to about five. Or six- it all depends. I bring library books with me, I sleep, I have notebooks. I'll be going into ninth grade- and summer school starts up in two weeks. I like the freedom I have at the park and I can study and get stuff done for High School."

Nick nodded and Grissom frowned. If this was true, she _would_ be the perfect witness. As a regular, she would be able to point out abnormal circumstances.

"Anyways," she continued, "I have my cell phone with me and I'm not allowed to skip dinner. I also have to call home every day between twelve and one, so my parents know I'm actually alive and wasn't, well, you know, kidnapped…" She winced. "Like that little girl- what was her name? Libby? Lizzy? I heard the mom screaming, poor woman. It's really awful what happened, and I don't blame my mom for wanting to check up on me, though it can get really annoying. Like, I fell asleep the other day and didn't wake up until after one, and when I called my mom, she was _hysterical_. Like really pissed at me for missing the call and-"

"Describe what happened this morning." Grissom cut in again. They didn't have _time_ to listen to cute little stories about the girl's life.

"Right, well, okay. So I get here a bit after nine this morning- I was running late. Slept through the alarm, had to wait forever for my older sister Christy to finish in the bathroom before I could get in, had to talk to my mother about summer school before I left. I get here and settle down and start my iPod as I read about enzymes- I'm taking Biology in the fall. I looked up occasionally, just because, well, reading a book about enzymes when you're totally new to them can be a bit overwhelming. So I was thinking, trying to process the info, getting it to sink in. I noticed some things, like this pair of twins- they're here every morning- playing on the swings and the one accidentally fell off and started to cry and the mom came and whisked them both away. And there was this one little kid that tried to eat sand, but boy did his mom move fast and stop him from doing _that._"

"Did you see the girl in question?" Grissom interrupted again.

"Sure, I'm getting to that." She flashed a large grin at the team. "By that time, it was nearing noon and my iPod was on Louis Armstrong- I remember because my sister, Jane? She's really into playing blues on the piano. I suck at piano, but I appreciate the music. And so I was listening to the song and not doing anything else and I see this commotion. Well," she amended, "not really a _commotion_. Just that there's this group of kids standing around this tree. And I start to go over and look myself, because there's got to be _something_ interesting to pull ten kids away from playing and then the group goes away and there's just this little girl standing there. I wasn't _that_ close, but I could hear the conversation."

"Wait- what did the girl look like?" Warrick interrupted. "And her mom?"

"The mom was kind of tall- I'm not good at judging how tall people are. And she was wearing slacks- not jeans. Hers were tan- I'd say probably khakis. And she had on a light blue t-shirt, just a normal one. Plain colored; no pattern or picture. And she had on sunglasses, and shoulder length straight brown hair. And she had a gap between her teeth."

"You were that close?" Nick looked at her incredulously.

"No, not really. I just have very good vision." She tapped her right eye. "No glasses or vision problems for me, I see better than 20/20. It's handy."

"Right…" Nick said, changing the subject. "Go on, what did the girl look like and what happened after that."

"Well, the girl had dark hair too, but hers was curly and longer. She had on an orange sweat jacket and jeans. Again, not sure how tall she was, but she seemed to go to the mother's waist. And she had a stick in her hands and the mom was scolding her for messing with this dead bird on the ground. It was actually kind of cute, but then the girl got mad and stormed off and I turned around and went back to my tree. And then I saw the girl on the swings for a bit, but she got off and followed this guy and-"

"What guy?" Grissom interrupted. "Describe the man."

"He was tall, again, not sure how tall, but fairly tall. Wearing jeans, sneakers, brown hair, sun glasses, a white t-shirt with some band name on it- Nirvana- and a blue windbreaker." She cited. "I didn't really think it was anything special, because I just figured he was her dad. I mean, they both had dark brown curly hair and she didn't have a problem going off with him, so…"

"Did he say anything? Did she say anything?"

"He said…I think it was something about a bird. I just figured that the mom didn't like the idea of her daughter messing around with dead birds, but the dad didn't mind. Sort of like my family- my mom would have _fits_ if any of us played around with dead animals, but my older brother Josh? He wants to be a surgeon and used to always try to 'operate' on road kill and it never bothered my dad. He thought it was interesting and would tell people what a great doctor Josh would make."

She took a breath and continued. "So yeah, I didn't think anything of it. Plus I was on the phone with my mom, doing my daily 'call-in' and wasn't really paying attention."

"What direction did they go?" Nick asked, glancing around at the other two CSIs. "And did you see anything else important?"

"They went that direction, into the trees." She pointed to the left, towards where she was sitting before. A direction that led towards a parking lot. "And no, after they left, I hung up, put in my iPod again and then this woman started screaming and I realized it was the same woman as before, but I couldn't really hear her. And then people started talking and going towards her and the police showed up and I realized that it was a kidnapping and that the guy must not have been her husband."

"Unless," she froze, "Was he? I mean, on 20/20 the other night there was a segment on how a large number of kids were kidnapped by the other parent. Oh my, could that have been it? Geez, that's rough, but at least it isn't a stranger…but it's still horrible…"

"The kidnapper wasn't her father. Her father has already been contacted and was nowhere near the scene of the kidnapping when it happened." Grissom cur her off. "Thank you for the information. You'll have to give your name and address and telephone number to the officer and we'll contact you later if we need to speak to you again."

He nodded to the other two men and started to walk away, troubled. This was an interesting and unexpected turn of the investigation and he wondered how much the girl had actually seen and what it might mean.

"Wait!" He stopped and turned. "What about a sketch artist? I've seen cop shows," she blushed, "and they can take the descriptions of suspects from witnesses and draw them. I could do that- sit with an artist and describe the suspect. I saw him, after all."

Sighing, he shared a glance with Nick and Warrick. "It might be a good idea, Grissom," Nick finally spoke up. "She could give us a picture of the suspect and we could give it to the media, have them pass it around. Maybe someone will have seen him or them together."

"All right," he decided. "Officer Bilder? Would you escort her to the station? I'll call Captain Brass."

"Yes, sir." The officer maneuvered her away.

Grissom took out his cell phone and dialed. "Nick, Warrick, take the evidence and go to the lab. I'll meet you there in a bit."

"Yes, boss." The men shared a look and began to gather up the evidence.

He stood there, listening to the cell ring. "Jim, it's Gil. We've got a witness."

* * *

"I'm going to put Eirik to bed," Greg finally spoke after Brass had been shown out. He tried to keep his face and thoughts centered on that task, but he couldn't help wonder what having a witness meant. It could be either a curse or a blessing, depending on the validity and honesty of the witness.

He hoped they had an honest witness.

The two three officers assigned to them nodded and Officer James even offered a smile. He began to climb the stairs, believing that Sara was still in the living room. She had barely moved since they had arrived and he was concerned for her. Even if they were divorcing, it didn't mean he had no feelings for her. It just meant that… He wasn't sure what it meant.

He had believed their marriage to be strong and healthy. But he had noticed over the years the way Sara seemed to withdraw- not only from him, but from their children. He understood that she had had a hard time adjusting to married life and children- but it had been almost eight years. And instead of getting better, she seemed to get worse, turning away even more. And whenever they attempted to talk, things just got in the way.

He loved her. And that was the problem.

When she had missed Lissy's sixth birthday, their daughter had been in tears. Their colleagues and friends were uncomfortable. And their marriage began to crack.

It hadn't been the first argument they had had. That honor went to the one three weeks into their relationship, when he had told her to go home after a triple shift and get sleep and she had yelled at him not to order her around. They had resolved it quickly when Grissom ordered her to go home, and he had appeared on her doorstep with an apology, flowers and a speech on how he had just been worried and was looking out for her.

This argument might not have been the first. But it was the loudest and held the most meaning. They had both slung barbs about each other around, hers being about how immature he was and his about her wavering attention in regards to their marriage and family. She might have been more colorful while screaming at him- but his arguments had held the most truth.

They both knew that.

And the next day she had told him she was going to move out.

She was turning away, leaving them behind. She was running away from her problems, not facing them. She was abandoning her two children.

He had tried to reason with her. They both had tried to somehow make things worse. But the crack grew and grew and soon the once strong marriage was falling into pieces. She finally moved out. They both got attorneys.

And they faced the fact that their marriage was completely over.

Yet he still loved her.

He had tried to tell her that- make her see it. But she had refused to, claiming that it was too late. That she 'couldn't be in a relationship anymore', that she was 'romantically stunted', that she was 'meant to be alone in the world like she had always had been'.

If he had had a time machine (and it was very good he didn't), he would have gone back in time and killed everyone who had ever hurt her. She didn't deserve the torturous past she had carried with her throughout her entire life. Damn it, he loved her and so did their children and while yes, she certainly needed some help with how to deal with a family, she wasn't a bad person or anything. She just had to see it.

And she was too damn stubborn to.

Sighing, he entered Eirik's room. Sara had painted it- something she had actually enjoyed doing at the time. Pale green, pale yellow and dark blue were the ambient colors. He had been quite surprised when she confessed to taking art classes at Harvard, but as he surveyed her work, he could see it. She was a good artist and had a good eye for putting the room together.

Shaking his head, he walked over and lowered the boy into his crib. Greg had planned on moving him to a real bed during the summer, but now he wasn't so sure. With Lissy missing…

_She'll be fine_. He swallowed back tears, running a hand gently over Eirik's hair. He didn't bother to change him out of his clothes- he just removed the shoes and jeans. Checking the diaper and seeing that it was dry, he decided to leave it on. Another thing they had wanted to work on- toilet training. Something else that was going to be pushed aside until Lissy was back.

_If she ever comes back_.

He had to think positive. He had to believe in her and his friends. The crime lab was the second best in the country. They would find her. They would follow the evidence and find her. And they even had a witness. They _had_ to find her.

He couldn't lose hope.

No matter how terrible it looked.

"Love you, little guy," he whispered, slowly backing away. Eirik stirred, but stayed asleep. Greg pulled the blinds shut and flipped on the baby monitor as well as the lamp on the dresser that functioned as a night light. "Sleep tight. And in the morning, your big sister will be back and everything will be okay and we'll go to Chuck E. Cheese's and you can play there."

He stepped out of the room, closed the door and turned around slowly, sighing. He knew Eirik probably didn't hear him and he also knew that chances were slim that they'd find her by tomorrow. But saying it out loud seemed to make it real. And it gave him something to concentrate on…

"What the hell were you doing?"

He managed to refrain from jumping as Sara interrupted his thoughts. "I thought you were still downstairs…" He drew out, frowning. "If you want to lie down, there's always the guest room. Or our- _my_ room," he corrected quickly, "I don't care." It had been a couple of months since she moved out, but he still had a hard time adjusting to the fact that it was no longer _their_ house, but his.

"I don't want to lie down. I want to know what you're playing at." She crossed her arms and glared at him. The glare had the effect of making the victim feel as if she knew all their secrets and if they were a bug about to get squished. It was _highly_ unpleasant.

He hated when she used it on him.

It always made him squirm.

And it always made him wonder what the hell he had done wrong _this_ time.

"What are you _talking_ about?" He finally managed to ask, trying to stop himself from fidgeting. So far, he had been pleasant to her. Well, except for the 'incident' in the park. But she had slapped him and had screamed back, so he figured they were even. He had kept his distance since then, letting her have her solitude and not bothering her or badgering her about anything.

What had he done?

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Greg. You just proved to Brass what a super-dad you are and how incompetent I am." Her voice was raised and Greg was suddenly very aware of how close they were to Eirik's room- namely standing in front of it. He did _not_ want to deal with a cranky two year-old who had missed his nap. He had half a mind to set him loose on Sara then- which would be cruel. If he had trouble with Eirik, then Sara would have at least ten times that amount. But at the moment, he was feeling a bit vindictive. Having your daughter kidnapped while in the care of your ex, as well as having that ex scream at you for no reason hours later would do that to a man.

"What, you mean the scene in the park? If so, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you, but I was a bit upset and surprised. It's not every day you walk into a crime scene and learn that the victim is your own daughter." He kept his voice low and steady. "And if you want to continue to discuss this matter, I suggest we move somewhere else. I do _not_ want Eirik waking up due to your loud voice."

"That's not what I meant." She glared at him, but followed him anyway as he led her into the Master Bedroom. "How the hell did you know what she was wearing exactly? Did you fucking _memorize_ it, just to show me up, or what?" She slammed the door and he winced at the noise.

_Dear God, please, _please _do not let that have woken Eirik up…_

"_That_'s it? That's what you're so pissed at me for?" He stared at her incredulously.

"Catherine already thinks I'm the worst mom in the world and she got her proof today and now you show me up in front of Brass. That's just fucking _asking_ for rumors to be spread and because of the Amber Alert it's going to get on TV and now the entire city, if not _state_, depending on how the case does, will now see how screwed up I am."

"That's not what I was trying to do," he ventured hesitantly. As she held her tongue, he continued. "Thanks to Catherine and Lindsey, our resident fashion divas, Lissy refuses to wear anything but Gap. Or," he amended, "anything with Scooby Doo or a few other cartoon characters on it. It wasn't hard to guess that what she was wearing was from Gap. Plus," he moved and sat on the bed, "I spent twenty minutes this morning with Nora and Lissy looking for that shirt. I was almost late to a scene because Lissy wanted to wear that shirt so much today and we couldn't find it. It was behind the dryer. And those jeans are her favorite. It was common sense, Sara. Not any 'super powers' or me wanting to show you up."

"Plus," he admitted, "last time I saw Lissy was after we found the shirt and I had to run out of the door. I wasn't traumatized at the time."

"Are you saying that caring for my daughter _traumatizes _me?" She bit out, moving to stand in front of him.

"No," he stated clearly, "I meant that I had no reason to block the events of this morning from my head, unlike you. When I saw Lissy for the last time, it was seven am and I was on my way to a scene after an hour break between shifts. You, on the other hand, last saw her right before she was kidnapped and so you have a hard time remembering because it was so upsetting. But," he added, even though the alarm bells in his head were warning him away from finishing the sentence, "it's no secret you have issues with-"

"_Fuck you_."

He froze.

"Just fuck you, Greg. You think you're prefect? Well, you're _not_. You're anything but. You're childish and immature and reckless and haughty and-"

"I am _not_ haughty!" He yelled. "What the hell are you _on_ to think that? When have I _ever_ given the impression that I'm condescending or anything like that?"

To hell with having a proper conversation with her. If she wanted a fight, she was going to damn-well get one.

"Oh, I don't know," she looked to the side and tapped her finger on her chin. "Oh, how about _the way you continue to alienate our kids from me_? Going on about how _terrible_ a mother I am and how you '_don't know if I can handle the kids by myself_?'" She finally quoted, glaring furiously at him. "It's all over the lab- I have complete strangers asking me if I can handle my own children. Do you know what it's _like_ to have everyone watching you and worried if you can survive a day- _five hours_- as you put it earlier, with your kids? As if I'm completely incompetent?"

"I never said that," he stubbornly declared. "And certainly not in the lab-"

"Yes, you did," she cut in. "Three weeks ago. You had an appointment with your lawyer and were discussing it with Nick and he asked what you were doing with Lissy and Eirik and you said you were leaving them with me, but you were worried about me watching them by myself and someone overheard and told the entire lab."

Greg furrowed his brow in thought. What was she talking- oh, right. He remembered. And it had been sort of like it. Just that the eavesdropper- who he was personally going to hunt down later- got it wrong. "That's not what I meant," he explained. "Remember? You had the flu and were just getting over it and I told Nick that I wasn't sure if you could handle the kids while you were still getting over it. That was when Ecklie had to order you to go home and called the paramedics on you and it was only five days later that you had to look after the kids and I wasn't sure if you were up to it."

"Yeah, but the rumors were still there before." Sara shook her head and Greg was shocked to see the glint of tears on her cheeks. "Most people wouldn't have believed it- or at least it wouldn't have gotten so out of hand unless there was precedent."

"And you think I had something to do with it?" He ventured, frowning. She thought that low of him? She actually believed he would say such a thing to their friends, to their coworkers? He wasn't sure if he should hurt or angry. In any case, tears prickled in his eyes. It was too much. _Everything_ was too much.

She ignored his question, continuing on. "Remember when Lissy was a baby and you locked her in the car by accident? Everyone teased you for months- it was a big joke. And then I do that with Eirik and suddenly I'm a terrible mother. It's not like I _meant_ to lock him in the car. It wasn't even me- it was Lissy who got out and shut the door before I could get my keys. But everyone blamed me for it and Catherine, among others, was unbearable about it."

"So you're blaming me now for something that happened over two years ago? That's rich." He spit out. "I have _never_ said anything against you in public and I feel insulted that you would _ever_ think that of me, Sara."

"You feel insulted from _me_?" She shrieked. "That's ridiculous! You're the overbearing one in this marriage, the problem causer!"

"_What_?" He jumped up from his seat on the bed. "_I'm_ the problem causer? You're the one who walked out- who _wanted_ out!"

"Because you were being impossible to live with! I had no _choice_- it was either get out or do something crazy like hurt myself!" She yelled back, tears openly falling down her cheeks now. "I couldn't _stand_ being married to you anymore- so I left!"

"Yeah, well, wake up call, we're still fucking _married_!" He shouted back. He knew that if the noise escalated just a bit more, there was a good chance Eirik would wake up and they'd have the officers downstairs come running. But- he couldn't stop. "And even if we weren't, we're still connected because we have two _children_!"

"Maybe I never wanted children!" She shouted. "You were the one obsessed with having kids! And I was the one stuck raising them-"

"_You_ raised them? You hated to be alone with either of them! You hated to do _anything_ with them- you still do! It's like pulling teeth to get you to do stuff with them!" He took a step so they were standing face to face, inches apart.

"Then take them! Go ahead! I don't want anything to do with them if that's how you feel about it!" She was red in the face, tears still streaming down. If he hadn't been so _mad_ at her, he would have felt sorry for her. But his anger won out- and grew every second.

"I _would_! Except they _love_ you, Sara! You're their _mother_! How do you think _they'd_ feel if you were to just take off, never see them again?" He shouted back. "There are more people in this world besides _you_, Sara! They'd be crushed! They _want_ you!"

"Well, I don't want _them_! I _never_ wanted them!"

And without thinking, he yelled back. "Well, that's great then, because you already lost one! One down, one more to go, is that it, Sara? You fucking _lost_ her and you're _happy_ about it!"

Complete silence.

_Shit_.

He had gone too far.

He had let his anger and pain take over.

He had lost control.

_Damn it_.

Instantly, she was deflated. He watched her turn ashen, sway with contemplation over the verity of his heated words, before her feet gave out from under her and she fell.

He didn't think. He just acted.

He grabbed her before she fell, making sure she didn't hit it on anything. Her eyes flickered as he cradled her torso against his chest.

And then he did something very stupid.

He kissed her.


	6. Chapter 6: Running Smoothly

**Chapter 6: **Running Smoothly

"_The course of true love never did run smooth_." Shakespeare

He was kissing her.

He had actually kissed her. He had broken through the barrier they had constructed between them and had become physical with her.

His lips were moist against her chapped ones and while it certainly felt foreign…part of her admitted that it also felt nice. It had been so long since they had been close like this and while she gave the impression of the confident, never acquiescing ice queen, it was rather…pleasant to be _loved_ once again.

_If that's what you could call it_, she added somewhat bitterly. This was, after all, her ex and she had already gone down _that_ path. She already let him in once and the consequences of that were well known. She _couldn't_ let him take control of her, like she had once allowed.

But…_everyone_ needs some form of comfort, right? And here he was offering it to her, with a hint of something more. The only question was if this 'something more' would turn into the deadly viper their _first_ relationship had.

She had learned her lesson.

She knew now that she wasn't made for long-term relationships or a marriage or a family. Too bad that she had had to go through seven and a half years of torture to learn.

_Was it really torture_?

Sure, there had been bad times- lots of them in the recent months. But at the beginning, when it had just been her and Greg- things had been _fun_. She had liked those times, when they were on their own and free of worries. But then she let Greg talk her into getting pregnant and the happy 'fairy tale' had disappeared.

Been crushed, by the evil witch.

The evil witch, by the name of Sara Evelyn Sanders nee Sidle.

She hadn't _meant_ to be a horrible mom. But regardless of her intentions, fate had held a different path for her. And after awhile, as her confidence was destroyed bit by bit, she began to take on a certain disregard for it all- her children, her parenting abilities, her marriage. So she stuck to the things she knew- forensics and the ability to be utterly alone and to revel in her solitude.

She hadn't wanted to ruin it all.

But she had and she couldn't take it back.

Walking into Lissy's sixth birthday party- after everyone had gone home, because she was _seven_ hours too late- had been the eye-opener. She realized how shitty she was being to her daughter and her husband and even to her son, who probably didn't even recognize her. She wouldn't blame him if he didn't, at least. So she started a fight, because it was something she knew she could do, something she wouldn't have to worry about _failing_ in. And then she left- or at least tried to. Yet she had let Greg talk her into staying for at least a little bit more, while she retreated even more into her soulless shell, trying to hang on, trying to make appearances and have everything seem happy-dandy fine. Which _nothing_ was, but no one would believe her.

She just wasn't capable of a relationship. She wasn't capable of being part of a family. Her own family had been horribly screwed-up. Her foster families weren't that much better and she was bounced through the system like a ping-pong ball, until her aunt and uncle finally got out of their hippy flower-child stage- in 1987, she might add, and took her in- if it could even be called that. And then she had gone to Harvard and gotten _married_- yes, it had been a mistake and yes, it had only lasted about three months and no, she didn't want to talk about it- and proved that marriage was a horrible mistake. Then came Grissom, and she spent over sixteen years pining for a man who was an emotional vacuum. And she gave up on relationships.

Then Greg had convinced her to give him a chance. And she realized that, hey, relationships might not be that bad after all. Until she screwed _that_ one up- ended up screwing up two children as well- and realized that she finally had her proof that relationships and she did not mix, thank you very much.

But now, she had _lost_ her daughter and she was suddenly faced with feeling she hadn't felt in, well, _years_. She _wanted_ to be a mom again, on some primal level, even though her head and heart _both_ were warning her away.

And now Greg was kissing her.

She didn't know what to make of it.

She was a scientist- but this wasn't something she could analyze, no matter how she tried. And when Greg deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and compelled her to open hers- she did, regardless of what the consequences might be.

_Screw the consequences._

The kiss couldn't go anywhere good, and after it ended- wherever it ended- they were still going to be stuck with the aftermath. There was so _much_ between her and Greg- and it wasn't all daises and roses. Roses have thorns, after all. And the argument- extremely heated fight, more likely- they had just had proved that things were nowhere _close_ to being okay or on the way to getting there.

So why wasn't she pushing him away? Why was she kissing back, reveling in the sensations as he left her lips to trail down her neck? Why was she pulling him closer, instead of moving away?

_Because I'm human_, she finally decided. And wasn't that the start of it all? She had tried to become 'super-mom' and had failed miserably. Instead of _asking_ for help, she had refused it. Instead of taking the time off of work, she wanted to prove (to Grissom) that being married and having a kid didn't mean anything in the long run- she still was capable of working and doing everything else she used to before she had let her husband knock her up. This- this _family_ thing- it didn't matter. She could handle both.

But she hadn't and she had had to push one to the side. She had had to decide whether motherhood or her job meant the most to her- which she needed to spend the most time at. And since Greg was already handling the fatherhood thing so damn well and since everyone already had begun to think that she wasn't doing that great of job as a mom- well, the choice had looked simple.

Too bad she had chosen the wrong one.

And too bad it was too late for her to see it.

She couldn't fool herself any longer. She and Greg needed to _talk_- not this intimacy, which while feeling great, didn't really help matters any- and they needed to talk _soon_.

Of course, with Lissy missing, the chances of that happening were slim to none.

She had committed the biggest screw-up- she had let her daughter get kidnapped. Forget the statistics and the logical knowledge that there was nothing she could have done. Just accept the fact that it was her fault and her fault alone and let her _beg_ for forgiveness- except that she couldn't.

She didn't know how to.

Which was also one huge problem.

_Face it, Sidle, _you're _one huge problem_.

And…that was it, wasn't it?

It was simple. She was a failure.

And when the doorbell rang and brought them both back to reality and Greg turned red and started to stammer about the door before running off to get it, she just stood there in their former bedroom, the bedroom they had consummated their marriage in as well as conceived at least one of their children in (she wasn't too sure about Eirik) - the walls began to crumble.

And she collapsed in a pile of self-contempt, self-pity and abandon, as she wept for all that had been, all that was and all that was to come.

* * *

He thundered down the stairs, actively trying to push the last minutes out of his mind. He was a complete and utter _idiot_. He considered bashing his head against the wall, but he knew that one, it wouldn't help him any and two, he didn't need the headache. He already had enough of one…

"I _work_ here! Let me in, just tell Mr. Sanders that-" He heard the agitated voice as he entered the foyer and it was clear to him who it was. Apparently in all the haste and confusion, no one thought to call Nora Jameson, the baby-sitter, and tell her what happened.

Not to mention that Brass would want to interview her. He hadn't been in the room while Brass had interviewed Sara, but he figured that she had left out mentioning Nora. It wasn't that surprising- Sara had little contact with the young woman who took care of the children while he was at work. And Brass would probably be by soon to ask for a list of _anyone_ who had contact with the children. It was usually one of the first things asked of the parents, but as they all knew, this wasn't your normal kidnapping. And things had been done out of order or not done at all.

Nora was a petite five feet, currently had dark blue hair, straight and going half way down her back. She also had blue eyes- that matched her hair- pale skin and was dressed completely in black, from the cotton blouse with billowing sleeves to the full lacy skirt to her black platform suede boots. She had one ear pierced with various earrings, the other ear holding only one earring and she also wore a silver chain with a few charms on it. Nora was, to put it simply, a character- but Greg didn't care. She was good with the children and they loved her and that was really all that mattered.

Oh, and the fact that when Greg had ran her fingerprints through AFIS and her DNA through CODIS nothing popped up.

The three officers were crowding the doorway, refusing her entry and Greg could tell that she was quite annoyed. Sighing, he spoke up. "Officers, it's all right. I need to talk to her."

"Captain Brass is already on his way," Officer James mentioned. "And he said to keep her out until her identity could be verified."

"Consider her identity verified," Greg said, moving towards the door, and grabbing the woman through the police officers. "We'll be in the living room."

Nora just stared at him in shock as he herded her through the unyielding human police barrier and into the living room. But she sat down when he bade her to and she stayed silent until he spoke.

This was not going to be fun at all.

"Nora, as you know, Sara took the kids for a few hours this morning." His voice was grave, but as he mentioned Sara, his mind immediately flew to the woman currently in the bedroom and the kiss. _Damn it, do _not _think of that…_

"Well sure, Mr. Sanders. It's just after two and since no one called, I went to her apartment to pick them up, but they weren't there. Then I came here." She smiled hesitantly at him. "Is there something wrong? Did I mess up?"

"No," he tried to smile at her- but failed. "It's nothing that you did. It's nothing that _anyone_ did, really. Sara took the children to the park and-" He found he couldn't go on. He was choking, unable to speak the words. It had been hard- but manageable- to talk about it to their friends and co-workers. They were involved in the case anyways. But to speak of it to someone else not actively involved in the investigation… That made it _real_.

It couldn't be real.

He had been able to face the facts when presented with them, and he had been able to deal with talking about it, only because part of him was still insisting that it wasn't real- that it wasn't _Liss_y, but someone else- just another case. Because, in a way, that's all it was. He had been there when the case had been assigned a number. He had been there when Grissom handed out the assignment and called Nick and him in from the B&E turned 419. He had been there for the initial briefing and the case had run as any other case would, with a trip to the scene.

And then the bottom had fallen out and he was sent into an abyss of despair and second-guessing and horror and all those other things he didn't dare think about. But he was able to semi-cling to the walls- the horrible looking sharp and rough walls that tore at his hands- simply because part of him wouldn't believe it. It was his saving grace to believe that it was nothing more than a mistake and that it didn't really mean anything.

Oh how wrong he was…

And now, faced with the black infinity of the abyss as the sides turned into smooth stone that wouldn't allow any hold- it was real. Either face the bottom or fall forever.

Neither seemed appetizing.

But he didn't really have a choice…

"Rosalind Sanders has been kidnapped and the police are actively pursuing the case." Officer James interrupted, when Greg didn't continue. He figured that the officer meant well, noticing his distress and deciding to give him a break. But if the distraught look on Nora's face was any indicator, the police woman's remark hadn't helped any.

"Lissy was _kidnapped_?" Her hands flew up to her mouth and tears welled in her eyes. "My God, what happened? When? Is she all right? Where's Eirik, is he doing okay? Is there anything I can do?"

"Calm down, Nora," Greg finally spoke. "Sara took the two of them to the park and while Lissy was on the swings, she was taken. It happened around noon, we don't know if she's all right and Eirik is doing fine. He's asleep upstairs. As for anything you can do- just answer the detective's questions when he arrives." He listed the information, trying to keep his tone normal. It was all he could do to refrain from breaking down himself.

The sitter's tears slowed and she began to fiddle with her necklace- something Greg noticed she did when concentrating. "She'll be okay," he found himself reassuring her, although deep down he knew that it was anything but true. She wouldn't be okay, not after being kidnapped. Even if she wasn't harmed at all physically, there was still going to be emotional damage.

Patting the woman on the shoulder, he sighed and faced another officer, one he wasn't sure of the name of. "I'll be upstairs," he muttered, and left. It wasn't until he was on the stairs that his mind added on '_with Sara_'- the mere thought that made him begin to flush red again.

Perhaps he hadn't cleared his mind of the previous encounter so well.

And perhaps he didn't want to.

* * *

Before leaving for the Sanders residence, Brass had plopped the finished sketch of their current suspect in Warrick's hands. Now the man was staring at the digital image on the computer screen. Frowning, he began to work it. 

He added in brown as the hair color, his mind seeing a darker shade than normal. He also filled in the pale skin color, the blue eyes he knew fit. He also adjusted the clothing, adjusted the hair style and cut and then saved the image.

He knew the man.

And he had a very bad feeling.

"Archie?" He called out, and the lab tech appeared almost instantly, leaning over his shoulder.

"What do you need?"

Warrick got up and the computer expert replaced him at the computer. "I need you to run this for me, through past cases. I recognize this guy, but I don't remember who he is. Just that I _know_ he's been involved in some case before."

"Sure thing," the tech said, and started his magic. Warrick retreated to do some other work- while he hadn't found anything in the bathroom, he knew that Grissom had collected an assortment of dead birds and one of them had a blue fiber on them. But when he checked in with Hodges, the man had simply explained that he was still running the fiber and he wouldn't know anything for at least another hour.

A bit shaken, Warrick returned to the AV lab. Hodges had been almost _pleasant_, which was certainly abnormal. Then again, the entire lab knew Lissy and when Ecklie of all people announced that she was missing and that the case had highest priority, no one had argued. They were all shaken up.

"Found anything yet?" Warrick called, as he entered. Archie was hunched over, his fingers running over the keys.

"No, noth- wait a second…" Typing in a rapid sequence of letters, a grin of triumph erupted on his face. "Got him."

Warrick bent over to peer at the screen. "Derek Pruden. Knew he looked familiar. But call up his sheet- there's something fishy about this."

"Already on it," Archie replied and with a flick of the mouse, his sheet was displayed. _Derek Pruden_, it read, _DOB March 13th 1966_. Warrick skipped to the bottom of the screen, where the pertinent information was displayed. And narrowed his eyes as he reached for his cell phone and made a call.

"Officer, I need to speak to Lieutenant Cox, yes, thank you. Has Miss Carver, the witness in the Sanders case left yet? Oh, yes, right. Do you have the contact details on her? Okay. Will do. Thank you." He hung up, glowering as he replaced the phone on his belt.

Archie was staring at him worriedly. "The witness still there?"

"No," Warrick said, fighting his response to slam his fist on the desk. "I've got to get a hold of Vartann," he named, the other detective who was actively working the case. "We've got one hell of a problem." He stalked out the door, and then turned back to face Archie. "Make sure he's still there," he said, nodding at the computer screen. "But otherwise, we were played real well."

Archie nodded and turned back to the screen as Warrick left. Displayed on the bottom of the screen were the words: _currently incarcerated in Clark County Penetentiary.  
_


	7. Chapter 7: Oblivion

**AN**: Sorry for the wait! But school started up again for me, which means my writing time is limited _and_ I was on a trip last week. Actually, I thought that I would get a chance to write because of the trip, but instead two friends and I holed up in our room and watched episodes of _House _and _CSI_ instead. So yeah, plans went down the drain. However, I have now finished! And I finish school in a few weeks anyway- though it isn't official till June, but whatever- which means more time then. Please be patient with me. :smiles: And thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.

**Chapter 7: **Oblivion

"_Beneath it all, desire of oblivion runs: despite the artful tensions of the calendar..._"- Philip Larkin

He wasn't sure what he was expecting as he slowly opened the door. She could be livid at him; she could be shutting him out with her silence; she could throw herself at him and beg for more.

_All right_, he admitted, _not the last one_.

But when he opened the door, he certainly wasn't expecting to see her passed out in a heap on the floor.

His heart jumped into his throat and he stared at her prone form for a lifetime of moments. She looked…_dead_. Lifeless, with her hair splayed around her head, her face relaxed- dried tears still glinting on her cheeks. Her limbs limp and doll-like.

He hated seeing her like this.

Sara rarely, if ever, let her guard down. Even around him- even when their marriage had been strong and _good_- he had had to cajole and bribe and distract to get her to open up to him. This- this _body_ lying on the floor- it wasn't Sara. It couldn't _be_ Sara. Sara was strong and stable and didn't get so upset as to fall on the floor in a faint. At least he hoped that was what it was…

He forced himself out of his shock and ran over to her, dropping to his knees. Gingerly he brushed a lock of hair out of the way and placed his index and middle fingers over the pulse point in her neck. It was slow and steady and _comforting_. Slowly he leaned down and pressed his lips gently over it, closing his eyes in remembrance.

She used to come alive when he kissed that spot. She used to wrap her arms around him and lean into him and it would awaken him-awaken them _both_. Bring the feeling alive, the feelings that fuelled their intricate essence. They were two beings intertwined together through experiences and spirit and _love_.

And now…

What _were_ they?

They weren't strangers- they couldn't ever _be_ strangers. There was too much history behind them. And his feelings- no matter how much he tried to hide them- were as strong as they ever were. He couldn't just flip a switch and turn them off, unlike _her_. He couldn't be all impersonal and unfeeling like _she_ could. He couldn't pretend that their family and past meant absolutely nothing-

He wasn't being fair. He _knew_ he wasn't being fair. And the way she had reacted to their kiss earlier was proof that Sara wasn't in as much control as she would have liked- or pretended to be. She was being affected just like he was. And it meant…

What _did_ it all mean?

Did they still have a chance?

Tragedy usually pulled families apart- yet it seemed as if it was slowly pulling the two of them together again. If that was even possible…

Their world was spinning out of control.

And he didn't know what to do about it.

He ran a hand through her silky hair, trying to focus on the situation at hand and what he should do. He wasn't a doctor, but he could guess that after all the emotion today, she had simply passed out. Calling the paramedics would do little for her- all she really needed was rest and, as Catherine had prescribed to him earlier, a change of clothes and tea- something she did occasionally drink.

Sighing, he awkwardly picked her up and carried her to the bed. He'd give her his bed and tuck her in and check on Eirik and then maybe, just maybe, he might not as hurt as much.

He was wrong.

He went through the motions as if nothing was wrong, but when he passed Lissy's room, he almost broke down once again. Her door was plain white and only adorned with a simple sign Nora had helped her make a year ago declaring it her room. He tried to move past it, but it held him with an invisible force, beckoning him to stay, to enter. And with reverence, he did, his palms wet, his throat dry, as he reached down and placed his hand on the handle, turning it slightly and creaking open the wooden barrier to Lissy's haven.

It was as if she never left.

He had been here earlier to fetch her blanket for Catherine, but at the time he had not stopped to think. He had hurriedly run in, grabbed it and left, not _daring_ to dwell.

Now he had to.

He and Sara, back when they were happy, had allowed her to choose how her room was decorated. She was a six year-old, so they drew some lines, but generally they had allowed her to choose. Therefore the walls were pale blue, her bed was a twin with a picket fence as head and foot board (his sister Annika's husband had made the bed for her- he designed and created furniture) and the linens were bright and cheery. There were the normal dolls and girly play things, but there was also an ant farm, a children's computer with science programs and a microscope along with a periodic table and other various 'scientific' objects. It showed both sides of his daughter- the girly young lady and the tomboy scientist- and it made him miss her even more. He couldn't bear to think what it would be like if they actually lost her. Would they clean out the room, erasing Lissy's personal realm? Or would they just let it sit…a museum to the little mademoiselle who once captured their hearts and then was lost to them?

He walked ethereally into the room, standing in the middle. There was still a whiff of her present and he closed his eyes, bringing her before him. He was a scientist and logical and not one prone to believing in specters. Yet…

He could swear he saw her.

Her head was bowed over her 'bug book' and she was sounding out the names of the insects carefully, examining the pictures. She was wearing the same clothing she had been that morning, though she now sported a headband to keep the hair out of her eyes (definitely Nora's doing) and her jacket was missing. He took a step towards her- and she looked up.

His heart stopped when he saw her smile. It was the same as always- and yet completely different. Her eyes were twinkling and he couldn't help but smile back at her. There wasn't any logic to it all. She _couldn't_ be there…but she was. He watched her turn back to her book and he had to shake his head in amusement at the way she twirled a strand of hair while reading. _Just like her mother…_

He sat down on the bed, her special quilt folded neatly next to her favorite stuffed Scooby Doo. Her backpack was sitting next to the bedside table and a book peaked out of it. Greg didn't need to lift the book to know what it was- Sara had given her a set of _Boxcar_ _Children_ books for Christmas and Lissy was in love with them. Greg lifted it out anyway, slowly smoothing the cover. The first book of the long series, it was now worn after many readings.

"Want me to read to you," he mumbled, eyes fixated on the cover.

He half expected an answer.

But when he looked up, the desk was empty and the book was on the shelf.

She was gone.

It felt like someone had shot him in the heart.

He laid the book on the bed and stood, clutching the headboard as he wavered on his feet. His headache was getting steadily worse and he knew that he needed sleep- _soon_.

He wouldn't let himself sleep.

To hell with his own health, Lissy was much more important. And from experience he knew that if he just ignored the dizziness and took some Tylenol for the headache, he'd be fine. _Perhaps another cup of coffee as well_, he added in his mind. It couldn't hurt.

Nothing could. He had already been hurt enough.

"Greg?" The sudden voice startled him so much that he fell back onto the bed. Hands on his temples, he peered up to see Brass standing in the door.

"You're back." He felt stupid for saying the obvious, but he wasn't sure how to react otherwise. Brass had scared the hell out of him.

"Yeah, have to interview Miss Jameson and need you downstairs. Sara should come too."

"No." he tried to clear his head and peered at him through half-closed eyes. "Don't- she's asleep and she needs it. I found her collapsed in the bedroom and put her to bed. I'm not going to allow her to be woken up unless it's an absolute emergency."

"Looks like you could use some sleep yourself."

He laughed bitterly at that. "Sure. When Lissy's back, I'll sleep for a week."

He ignored Brass' pointed look as he stood up and brushed past him downstairs. "Let's go then, while I'm half awake."

Nora had seemed to get a hold of her self, for her cheeks were dry. She still clutched a Kleenex however, and it was tangible proof that she wasn't as okay as she looked. Brass just raised his brows at Greg when they entered the room and he knew that the captain was probably wondering what such a…an eclectic woman was doing there.

Appearances can be very deceiving.

"She's great with the kids," Greg quietly answered. "And she has absolutely no record at all."

Brass just raised a brow.

"Miss Jameson, correct?" Brass moved to stand before her and Greg took a seat on the chair to the right. At her nod, he continued. "As you know, Lissy Sanders was kidnapped a few hours ago. She was kidnapped from Madison Park-"

"The one about twenty minutes away?" Nora interrupted. "We go there all the time. Lissy _loves_ it there."

"Wait a minute." Brass turned to stare at Greg. "Sara told me it was the first time they had gone there."

Greg frowned. "Well, she's wrong. Like Nora said, Lissy and Eirik like the park- I know Nora takes them there a lot and I take them there as well occasionally. Actually," he paused and thought for a second, "Sara might have been right. I don't think _Sara_'s ever taken them there. So she probably didn't know that they were there often."

"Sara said that it was Lissy's idea…" Brass checked his notes. "Miss Jameson-"

"Nora," she interrupted again, smiling.

"Nora, then. Nora, how often do you take the children there?"

She fiddled with her charms again, thinking. "Several times a week, usually. I don't mind driving them there."

"Do you have a specific time you go?" Brass continued. Greg sat back to listen.

"No…well, not usually. But since school got out, we've been going in the morning. Usually from about ten till noon or one."

"Daily?"

"Yes, though we did miss one day this week. But other than that- it keeps them entertained, active and they have fun. And I like being in nature- it cleanses." Greg could see Brass roll his eyes at the last comment, but the importance was in her earlier comments.

There was a pattern.

He had had no idea that the children visited the park daily with Nora, and neither did Sara. It opened an entire new dimension into the investigation- all someone needed to do was to observe the park for the last week, to see the pattern. Though Sara was with them instead of Nora, the children would still be easily spotted.

Which meant that it was premeditated.

_Why?_

What did they want with her? He couldn't fathom why they would take _her_. He knew that kidnappers had different motives, he knew that kidnappings weren't always personal and he knew that there were also some really sick and twisted people out there.

Yet he still thought it was his fault.

Survivor's guilt. Sort of. Lissy wasn't dead- he knew that. Forget the evidence- he could _feel_ that she was still alive. She had to be. But alive or not, his little girl was still gone and he didn't know if she would ever come back. And that… in a way, it amounted to the same thing, didn't it? He was left behind and she was away and God, it was all his fault…

"_Greg_." He shook his head to clear his mind. Nora and Brass were both starting at him with concern, and he could feel the moisture on his cheeks- evidence of tears. This was just so…so…

He couldn't go on.

He couldn't- he couldn't _deal_ with this. He was trying to be strong, but, no matter what he did- every new thing they learned- it was just another blow to his already fragile mental state.

He was a CSI- he _worked_ cases like this daily. He shouldn't be so affected, but- damn it, it was _his_ daughter and _his_ fault and he _should_ have been home earlier… Grissom had given him the option of signing out before Nick and he got called onto their next case- the very one before the kidnapping. If he hadn't stayed on, he wouldn't have been on that case and he would have been home by nine and would have taken the kids himself, instead of having Sara do it.

_And you would have asked them what they wanted to do, and Lissy would have asked to go to the park,_ his mind contradicted.

They'd still be in the same situation.

Fate was a bitch.

"I-" He gasped for air. "I-" He swallowed, nearly choking. The tears stung his eyes, he felt their pity-filled gazes upon him. He had to get control of himself, somehow. He _had_ to.

He had to find Lissy.

"I'll be fine," he finally whispered. "I- it just hits me sometimes…"

"You want water or something?" Brass motioned towards to one of the officers. "Or maybe you should leave the room-"

"_No_." He asserted. "I _need_ to be in on this, Brass."

He could feel Brass check him over with his eyes. But he kept silent and finally the older man nodded and turned back to Nora.

"Describe an average day to me."

"Well, that's kind of hard, sir." Nora laughed nervously. "We don't really have a routine…it all depends on Mr. and Mrs. Sanders' schedules and when I'm needed."

Greg nodded when Brass turned to him. Nora was right- they didn't really have a set routine. Double and triple shifts as well as overtime were completely normal- and not things you could really tell before a case.

"Did you have the children yesterday?" He asked instead.

"Yes, I did. And I've had them every night this week, for Mr. Sanders' normal hours. Occasionally, depending on his schedule, I end up staying longer, or coming earlier. And occasionally Mrs.…" She hesitated there and turned to Greg. "Is it still Mrs. Sanders? I meant to ask, but I never seem to remember." But before he could answer, she continued. "She'll take them, but not that often. Usually it's me."

"My day- or night, really- starts at nine pm, when I arrive. Lissy is never in bed by then- she has a bedtime of ten, but Eirik is often already asleep. I stay till about six or seven am, depending on when Mr. Sanders gets back. I get Lissy ready for bed if Mr. Sanders hasn't done it yet, and I always read to her and check on Eirik. I feed Tat, straighten up a bit, feed and let out Aslan, check on things. Then I'll read, watch TV, do homework or sleep- either on the couch in the guest room." She took a breath and then continued. "I wake up when Mr. Sanders gets home. Sometimes I stay for breakfast, sometimes I take off. When I do end up staying, I usually end up getting Lissy ready for school. Then I'll leave."

"But you stayed later today." Brass added.

"Right," she smoothed her skirt, and Greg could easily tell from her body language that she was more nervous than she let on, "it's been that way for the last…well, the last months, really. With Mr. Sanders working nights and, um, Mrs. Sanders moved out, I'm here whenever Mr. Sanders can't be- like when he's working late. Especially with Lissy out of school for the summer- I spend a lot of time with the kids."

"You said you did homework occasionally. You're in College?"

"Yes, I am. But I only take a couple of classes, one in the evening, one midmorning." She played with her necklace again and Greg knew from previous conversations that the charms symbolized different things and the one she was currently holding was for protection. "I'm a Mythology major with a minor in Anthropology- I've been working on the degree for the last five years. I'll have my Bachelor next semester."

"Do you have any other jobs?" And then, before she could answer, Brass continued. "And doesn't it get tiring, watching two kids all the time? How long have you been their sitter?"

Greg recognized the tactic- throw questions at the witness to confuse them and get them to screw up. So it wasn't surprising that he was getting rather annoyed at Brass for trying the tactic on a woman he trusted.

Nora maintained her composure. "Yes, sometimes. I'm on call for a few people- run errands and stuff. People who are sick, can't leave their house, are too busy… I signed up at UNLV- it's a decent job and not very time consuming. But this job is my main job. And no, it doesn't get tiring. I like kids and I wish I had siblings. Lissy and Eirik are great kids, Detective. And I've been their sitter for most of their lives. I took the job at nineteen and I'm twenty-five now."

"I'm not even going to bother running her," Brass finally said, turning to Greg. "I assume you've already done that."

Greg shrugged and sent Brass a shaky smile. "Of course, before we hired her."

"Figures." Nora just watched them confusedly, before Brass turned back to her. "These other jobs- what happens when you get one while you're with Lissy and Eirik?"

"No, never." She looked insulted. "I just tell them to call someone else, because I'm already working. I'm a professional, sir."

Brass ignored her injured tone, like Greg knew he would. "Start with last night and go into detail about _everything_ that you did with the children."

She made eye contact with him, and he nodded slightly. Sighing, she began. "I got here at nine. Aslan had gotten into the fridge, so Mr. Sanders was cleaning it up. Lissy was watching _Prince Caspian_ with Eirik. I said hello to the kids and helped clean up the fridge. Mr. Sanders ran to the store to by necessities before he had to leave for work and I watched the movie with the kids. He got back, grabbed his stuff and left for work after saying bye to the children. The movie ended, I put Eirik to bed, put the food away and then put Lissy to bed. Then I read a book, watched the news and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up at six with a call from him that he'd be home in about an hour. I changed my clothes, grabbed something to eat, read some more. He got home, but couldn't stay long. He was only home for about half an hour before a call came in and he had to hurry to a scene. He called Mrs. Sanders and arranged that she would take the children from nine till two, so I could go home, get some things done. After he finished the call, we spent the next twenty minutes searching for Lissy's shirt that she had to wear today. We found the shirt, he left. I got the children breakfast and all ready and Mrs. Sanders picked them up at nine. I left." She looked Brass in the eyes. "It wasn't the most exciting day ever, but fairly normal. Except for calling Mrs. Sanders, that's how pretty much every day this last week has gone."

"So you spend every day with the family, correct?" Greg frowned in confusion as Brass changed the topic. Hadn't they already covered that? And though in a normal interview this would be commonplace, well, they didn't need to cover that base again _here_.

"That's right, sir." Nora wrung her hands in her lap. "It's a good job and I enjoy it."

"Have you ever considered it _more_ than a job?" Brass shot back. Nora stared at him.

"I don't know what you mean…" She trailed off, stopping the motion of her hands. "I love the kids. It's fun and I enjoy doing it, and it's just a plus that I get paid for doing it. And Mr. and Mrs. Sanders are great people."

"Would you _like_ it to be more than just a job?" Greg was beginning to get an idea of where Brass was going, and he didn't like it.

"I don't understand…"

Brass began to pace slightly. "Let me tell you what it seems like. You're a young, pretty thing, intelligent and independent. Yet you spend all your spare time working with two kids. You already said you end up sleeping here a lot. It wouldn't take much more for you to move in, would it? Greg and Sara are rarely home- especially now with the divorce. I'd say you're probably more the primary caregiver than either of them. So, let's say, you decide you want more. Hey, I wouldn't blame you. You're already like Eirik and Elisabeth's second mom. Hell, you're more their mom than their _real_ mom and-"

"That's _enough_."

Greg stood up from the chair, shaking in fury. "That's going _way_ too far, Jim. Way too _fucking_ far. How _dare_ you even _think_ what you're suggesting?" It was one thing to drill Nora about the children and their routine. That was completely ordinary and expected. But to start in about his and Sara's failed relationship, their parenting abilities and hint that Nora might be more than 'just' the baby-sitter-that was over the top. There was _no_ reason why Brass had to go there.

"Sit down, Greg." Brass kept his tone even. "If you can't handle this line of questioning, leave the room. But I have to ask."

"Oh, so you have to accuse me of sleeping with the nanny? That's _really_ relative, since you sure as hell know it isn't true." He clenched his shirt, fighting back the urge to punch the older man. Punching out a friend is never a good idea- and punching out a friend who also happened to be a police captain in front of three other officers while the captain is investigating your daughter's kidnapping is even worse. He doubted Brass would press charges, but…

Best to keep his temper in control.

No matter _how_ tempting it might be.

"Leave, Greg." Brass remained neutral. "You shouldn't even be in this interview in the first place, but I made the exception. Don't make me regret it."

"That's _rich_. I told you- I already checked her out before Sara and I even _thought_ of hiring her. She has no record, has never had charges filed against her and doesn't even have a parking ticket. The only thing she's guilty of is taking good care of my kids, because- as you already pointed out- neither Sara's or my schedule really allows us to be around that much. Accusing her of anything else is just pointless _and_ a complete waste of already limited time."

"Greg-"

"She already told you what was relevant- that Lissy and Eirik _are_ at the park practically daily and therefore they very easily could have been watched and the kidnapping was pre-meditated. Why not go with _that_ instead of creating foolish scenarios about illicit affairs?"

"_Greg!_" Brass shouted, finally stopping the man's angry tirade. "Leave. _Now_. Go."

The room fell silent. The officers were standing off to the side, hovering, unsure of what to do. Nora was ghostly pale on the couch, the black clothing making her seem even more wraith like. And he…

He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Closing his eyes, he scrunched up his face in…what, pain? Anger? Helplessness? He…he didn't know what to do anymore. He didn't know how to react, how to think, how to _live_ anymore. It was…

Devastating.

That's all he could think of.

And with a strength that was completely foreign, he felt himself being half carried, half dragged out of the room on his own two feet- as if someone else had taken control of his body and was making him move.

He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to curl up in unconsciousness and have the world pass on by, leaving him alone. He wanted to fall into a hundred year sleep, like that famous fairy tale he couldn't remember the name of with the pounding that was going on in his head.

Chaos.

That's what it all was.

He was falling. Failing. Losing.

Losing consciousness.

Literally, he was losing consciousness. His legs gave out from under him and he belatedly realized that perhaps laying down earlier might have been a good idea. And even the arrival of Detective Sophia Curtis and Catherine with the proclamation that they had a suspect couldn't erase the blackness taking over his mind.

_A suspect…_

He fell into oblivion.


End file.
